


New Faces

by succulentfather



Category: Ghosts (TV 2019)
Genre: Multi, The Captain aint straight we been knew, major character death because they're ghosts duh, mayhaps there will also be gay, only really one chapter thats gonna feature graphic violence, teen and up bc naughty naughty swears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-01-02 07:07:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 18
Words: 20,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21157604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/succulentfather/pseuds/succulentfather
Summary: Alison and Mike thought they were getting a massive old house to themselves, and they were very wrong. But after about six months of attempting to fix the place up themselves and simultaneously deal with their array of ghoulish housemates, a phone call from a storage facility brings some new faces to the household.





	1. A Phone Call

“Ehhh… danker danker… checkmate.” Robin mumbled, gesturing to where his pawn should go on the chessboard. 

“I can’t believe this, you have to be cheating somehow.” Julian argued. 

“No cheat. Just good at game.” Robin smiled cheekily, before getting distracted by the ghost pigeon perched on the fireplace. 

Julian tutted, returning to the chessboard to try and figure out how on earth the illiterate caveman had bested him… again. 

Out in the main hallway, the landline had, surprisingly, rung and Alison picked it up, “Hello?”

“My fair Alison, your eyes are like-” Thomas, who had just phased through the wall beside her was interrupted by her death stare, and then Mike thundering down the stairs. 

“Who is it?” Mike asked. 

“Hello, are you still there?” a masculine voice on the other end of the phone called out. 

Alison apologised, “Yes sorry, who did you say you were?” 

“My name’s John, I work at Timpson’s storage facility. It’s come to my attention that you haven’t paid your next annual bill?” 

“Excuse me?”

“Your annual bill. We haven’t received any payment from you.” 

“Are you sure you’ve called the right place?” Alison became more confused. 

“The container is registered to Button House.” John replied. 

“Oh, well, me and my husband only moved here about six months ago. The previous owner was my great aunt and she died.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” 

Alison looked nervously to Mike, “We can’t really afford to pay anything.” 

“Right then,” John processed that, “Well, you’ve got two options then. Since the container is still registered to your address, you technically own the stuff that’s in there.” 

“Ooh! Who are you telephoning?” Kitty phased through the wall and bumped into Thomas. 

Alison angrily shushed her, earning an “Excuse me?” from the other end of the phone. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean you. Please carry on.” 

“As I was saying,” John sounded a tad annoyed, “You technically own the stuff in that container, so you can either leave it to us and we sell it at auction, or you keep whatever your great aunt left festering in there.” 

Alison paused thinking it over, “Can you give me a minute?”

Alison held the phone to her chest and turned to Mike. 

“What is it?” Mike enquired. 

“Some storage facility. Apparently there’s a container that belongs to the house and we can either keep it or sell it.” 

“Keep it! There might be buried treasure in there!” Kitty exclaimed. 

“Storage facility?” Mike repeated. 

Alison nodded her head before being spooked by Julian, the Captain and Fanny joining them through a wall. 

“I don’t know a lot about these places, but I do happen to know they are fraudsters.” Julian said with his trademark politician’s hand gesture, “They tell you they sell it at auction and you get the profit, but what they really do is take quite a significant percentage and tell you the stuff in there wasn’t worth much.” 

Although Alison had grown accustomed to ignoring the nonsense that came out of Julian’s mouth, she couldn’t help but believe him a little bit. 

“What should we do Mike?” 

“Well, you never know, there might be a working radiator in there…” Mike glanced over at a cracked window frame, “...or window sealant.”

“So we’re keeping it?” Alison apprehensively concluded. 

“Sure, what’s the worst that could happen?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this first chapter is very short, but I just wanted to set up the premise before I get into the thick of the story :)


	2. The New Arrivals

Alison had definitely had better mornings. For starters, she hadn’t been woken up by a ghost pigeon in her face, or a hopeless romantic poet ghost sighing out of her bedroom window. 

“Thomas! What did I say about the bedroom?” Alison shouted at him, inadvertently waking up a  
snoring Mike behind her. 

“My apologies dear Alison, but your beauty is not even succeeded by the morning dew and-”

“Get out.” Was Alison’s blunt reply. 

Thomas left silently with his head hung low, but not after a tasteless kiss was blown towards her. She groaned and slumped back into her pillow, rubbing her eyes with exhaustaution. Mike sleepily rolled over and put an arm around her. 

“So what do you think was in that container?” He mumbled into the pillows. 

“Probably a bunch of old stuff, like oil paintings and records and maybe some sort of heat lamp if we’re lucky.” Alison replied. 

“Yeah, it is getting colder.” Mike yawned loudly, “When did the guy say he’d be here again?” 

“I think around ten, why?” 

Mike’s brow furrowed; he propped himself up on his elbows and peered at the clock on their bedside table with weary eyes. His eyes widened as he noticed the position of the hands. 

“We’ve got like ten minutes!” 

“What?!” Alison looked at the clock herself before cursing under her breath and shoving the warm covers aside to get dressed. 

***  
(Earlier that morning)

“Private! Private wake up!” 

Stef, a teenager clad in 80s punk gear and matted bob hair tried to shake awake her friend, Private. Private was older, perhaps late twenties, and wore a traditional bright red Victorian soldier’s uniform (minus the headgear and white sash). Private slowly opened his eyes and sat up in the stiff old chair he had fallen asleep in. 

“He’s opening the container!” Stef pointed to the garage door-esque… door. 

“What the devil-?” Private sat straight up and watched as a thin sliver of daylight poured in from under the door. 

The door clattered upwards and revealed the security guard and John, one of the employees. Private stood up to attention and walked to them. He spotted some sort of heavy duty tool the guard had clearly used to break open the lock. 

“Do you suppose they have come to rob us?” Private scanned John’s face as he mumbled something to the guard. 

“It’s not technically robbing, buddy,” Stef pointed out, “This stuff doesn’t belong to us, well, most of it.” 

Without warning, John walked into the container to take a good luck around, and went through Private. He shuddered and winced at the sensation. 

“We are dead after all, there’s nothing we can physically do to stop them.” Stef continued. 

“Don’t take me for an idiot, Stef.” Private pursed his lips and they both watched as John picked up a cardboard box. 

“Wait!” Stef had a sudden realisation, “What if they’re going to auction!?” 

“Can you give me a hand with the big stuff?” John asked the security guard. 

“Auction, of course!” Private looked horrified at the thought and put his hands up into his hair, “Good Lord.” 

Stef walked over to him and gave him a soft hug, well, as soft as you can be in a leather jacket adorned with spikes. Private returned the hug and they stood there together, terrified at the thought of losing each other. John and the security guard slowly emptied the container of boxes, chairs and some sort of old piano. 

“It’s all going to be ok, buddy.” Stef took his hand and ran her thumb over his, “It’s not our fault.” 

As the container became half empty, the security guard picked up an old rifle from against the wall. Private eyed it nervously and Stef gave him a sympathetic side glance. At the same time, John was prying a 70s record player from under an old lamp. Stef gave the record player the same sort of nervous stare. Both ghosts looked at each other and followed the two men out of the row of containers and towards what looked like a moving van. 

“I suppose we should get in.” Private said as the two men placed the rifle and the record player next to each other in the truck. 

Private offered up an arm and Stef used it to climb into the back of the truck, Private then jumped up and took an apprehensive seat next to his friend, surrounded by the belongings from their container. As the last of the stuff was being loaded into the truck, a middle aged woman in Edwardian dress followed by a dog wearing a strange tudor ruff came hurrying up to the truck. 

“Children! Whatever is going on?” the woman cried. 

“Florence!” Stef clambered over to the edge of the truck, shadowed by Private, “We think our container is going off to auction.” 

“Good Lord!” 

“That’s what Private said.” Stef breathed. 

“I am so sorry my children, I do hope you still get to see one another.” Florence tried to be positive. 

“I highly doubt someone would want both a rifle AND a small gramophone.” Private sighed. 

“Right! That’s the last of it!” John called over and began to shut the back of the truck. 

In a split decision, Stef jumped off the truck and gave Florence a smothering hug, “I’m going to miss you.” 

“Both of us.” Private added, who had also got off the truck to give the dog one last pet. 

“Safe travels my dears. I hope to see you both when we all eventually pass on.” Florence smiled at the both of them. 

The dog whined and Stef leant down to give it a hug, “I’ll miss you too Charlie.” 

A loud whirring noise indicated the truck pulling away, Private and Stef cursed under their breath and sent Florence one last goodbye before rushing off to catch up with the truck. 

The ride was long, too long for this time in the morning. Stef and Private sat huddled up against a stack of boxes, opposite the rifle and the record player. 

“Sometimes I really do wish we weren’t attached to these blasted things.” Private gestured to the rifle, “It would be so much easier to roam free. I would much rather haunt my nephew’s bar all over again.” 

“You said you hated that bar.”

“But I got the pleasure of watching him grow up, have his own children, have grandchildren.” Private didn’t take his eyes away from the rifle, “They always said I was watching over them just because this damn gun was hung from the mantlepiece.” 

Private let out a little chuckle and Stef held his hand tighter. 

“I’m glad you got to see your family grow up.” Stef smiled at him, “I think the most exciting thing that has happened in my death was meeting you.”

Private sighed, still scared he was going to lose his closest friend. 

“Tell me a secret, Stef.” Private turned to her. 

“What?” 

“Tell me a secret about yourself. It is most likely we may never see each other again, so I want to know something about you.” Private elaborated. 

“Ok then,” Stef processed his statement, “Umm…”

“It doesn’t have to be big, just something about you.” 

“When I was a kid, there was this boy who lived in my street who would always kick his football at my bedroom window. One day I’d had enough, so left my window open so the ball would just fall into my room when he kicked it up there,” Stef laughed to herself and laced her arm around Private’s, “When he eventually kicked it up into my room I got these tiny scissors from my mum’s sewing kit and deflated the ball. I blamed it on my brother and he got into sooo much trouble, but I think it was still worth it.” 

Private smiled down fondly at her, “You little scoundrel!” He joked, squeezing her arm affectionately. 

“Ok, now your turn,” Stef returned the question. 

Private paused, thinking carefully. He thought about the time he had spent with Stef in the storage facility, over thirty years. It wasn’t the longest time in comparison to the time he had been dead, but they were so close it had felt like an entire lifetime. It was still hard to fathom that this might be the last moments he got to spend with her. 

“Tell me a big juicy one.” Stef grinned. 

“Juicy?” Private repeated. 

“Yeah, a big meaty secret.” She puffed out her cheeks and made him chortle. 

“Alright then, if you insist.” Private calmed down and took a deep breath, “I’m-”

His train of thought fizzled out as the truck began to slow down and the loud sound of tyres on gravel filled their ears. Both of their brows furrowed and they phased their heads through the truck to see it was pulling up to a run-down stately home. 

“What in the world?” Private mumbled in confusion. 

“You have GOT to be joking!” Stef’s jaw dropped. 

***

“It’s here! It’s here!” Kitty screeched, standing at the window and pointing to the large truck that had just parked up in front of the house. 

“Catherine, that is quite enough racket!” The Captain scolded her before joining her at the window to watch as a heavy man with a thick beard climbed out of the driver’s seat. 

“I wonder what treasures they will get!” Kitty mused, “What if they get a pony?” 

“They’ll probably end up pawning most of it.” Julian joined them as the driver walked up and knocked on the door, “Those containers are full of useless junk. That actually reminds me of a time when-” 

The Captain and Kitty got the hint and left Julian standing alone by the window. They had heard quite enough of his awful anecdotes over the years. 

Alison had just managed to throw breakfast down her throat before a heavy knock at the door made her jump, more than the ghosts did. 

“Hi there, Alison is it?” Alison opened the door to the burly driver. 

“Yes it is.” Alison smiled as best she could, hiding how awfully tired she actually was. 

“I’m John from the phone call yesterday, do you mind giving me a hand taking the stuff off the truck?” 

“Oh yeah, no problem. Mike! Can you come and help?” Alison called into the depths of the house and Mike came bounding up to them moments later. 

Alison and Mike followed him round to the back of the truck and he unlatched the doors to reveal the array of boxes and random furniture within. Much to Alison’s surprise, the truck was also host to a punk-looking teenager and some sort of soldier in a bright red tunic. They waited until the doors were fully open and clambered down off the truck, paying no attention to her, or Mike, or the driver. 

“I only came here once, but FUCK does it look run down.” She heard the punk girl say. 

“Do you think perhaps this is the auction house?” The soldier one commented. 

“No way buddy, pretty sure this is just an old mansion in the middle of nowhere.” Punk girl replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading lads. In this chapter I wanted to introduce Private and Stef (as well as Florence, sort of, but she wont be reappearing) as a different type of ghost to the guys we know from the TV show. I know it's really common for ghosts to stay in a particular building or area, but I wanted to explore the alternative of spirits/ghosts/entities that are sort of bound to an object and travel with said object.


	3. Housemates

Mike and John had begun to move some of the lighter boxes out of the truck, but Alison was distracted by these ‘stowaways’. She realised neither Mike nor John had taken any notice of them, so she excused herself and walked over to the duo. 

“Hey guys, um, who are you?” Alison tried to be polite. 

This clearly surprised the both of them and they turned in shock. 

“You can see us?” The soldier asked inquisitively. 

“Yeah,” Alison replied, “I’m guessing you guys are ghosts? I basically had an accident and now I’m able to see you guys.” 

“Good heavens.” The soldier breathed. 

“Can you tell us where we are?” Punk girl looked back up at the house, “We were worried all this stuff was going off to auction.” 

Alison noticed the girl’s arm nervously link with the soldier’s as his hands were held behind his back. 

“Don’t worry, if anything we need the extra stuff because this house is bloody empty.” She tried to reassure them, “How did you guys get here anyway?” 

“In the truck.” Punk girl said in a sarcastic tone, earning a jab in the ribs from the soldier. 

“We are bound to objects in there, so we were forced to come.” The soldier explained, “It is terribly painful to stray too far from your object.” 

Alison nodded, taking it in, “Ah, I see. Oh, I’m Alison by the way.” 

“I’m Stef and this is Private.” Punk girl introduced them. 

Private stood to attention at the mention of his name. 

***  
In the meantime, all the ghosts had gathered in the doorway to watch what was going on. They had originally come to see what would be inside the truck, but found themselves more interested in the two people Alison was now talking to. The Captain had taken a particular liking to the chap in dashing army uniform, even though it was an awful fire-truck red. 

“Who are they?” Pat asked nobody in particular. 

“I’m not going to just stand here gawking at them,” Julian sighed, pushing past the others. 

He strode confidently over to them to get a better look, closely followed by the others. The Captain was slightly disgruntled that he hadn’t taken the opportunity to take the lead. 

***  
“Oh, speaking of the others!” Alison turned around to face the ghosts approaching her, “Guys, these are the ghosts that live in this house.”

“Excuse me?” Julian asked, confused as he realised the two newcomers were staring straight at him and his accomplices. 

“We are ghosts too.” the Soldier explained. 

“This is Stef and this is Private.” Alison introduced them, “And these guys are Julian, Pat, Mary, Kitty, Thomas, Fanny-”

Fanny immediately interrupted Alison and threw a god awful stare in Stef’s direction, “You little rat!” 

“I beg your pardon?” Private became defensive and held an arm out in front of Stef. 

“Don’t think I don’t remember you and your vandalising ways.” Fanny continued, “Defacing my home with your… your repulsive words! I hope you came to a sticky end.” 

Alison, as well as Julian, Pat and Private looked awfully confused, “Fanny, what are you talking about?” 

“I tagged this building when I was alive.” Stef explained, “Pretty sure I wrote something like-”

“Oh! I remember you.” Pat’s eyes lit up, “Yeah, I think you wrote ‘Your mum sucks willy’.” 

Alison and Julian snorted. Fanny cried out in horror as Pat recited it and The Captain couldn’t help but smile a little at the juvenile phrase. 

“To be fair I was only fourteen.” The corner of Stef’s mouth lifted into a smirk. 

“Alison?” Mike called over from the truck, struggling to lift a box, “I don’t want to interrupt anything, but can I have a hand?” 

“Sure, just a second!” Alison replied and then turned to the ghosts, “So I guess Private and Stef are living here now. Be nice to them guys, especially you Julian.” 

Julian looked offended, “What did I do?” 

***

The ghosts stood in awkward silence, very awkward silence. Private stood his ground and Stef linked her arm in his, half hiding behind him. The resident ghosts of Button House all stood in formation with Julian at the front and Mary bringing up the rear. 

“So you are staying then?” Fanny asked the newcomers politely, but gave Stef a threatening stare. 

“We kind of have to, we’re connected to objects, so we go where they go.” Stef explained, not phased by Fanny’s stare. 

“Very well.” Lady Button pursed her lips. 

Another awkward silence, during which the Captain and Private eyed each others army uniforms. Private wasn’t quite sure what the bright colours on the moustached-man’s chest meant, but he definitely looked important. Similarly, the Captain was impressed by the sharp red tunic the young chap had on… or how handsome he was. 

“Well, uh,” Pat stuttered, “I’m sure we’ll all get to know each other. How about a tour?” 

“Yes, perhaps that is a good idea.” Private immediately jumped on the idea and followed Pat and the others into the house. 

***  
Pat’s tour had been quite long since he insisted on showing Stef and Private all the nooks of the building, apart from the basement. 

“And finally, this is the kitchen.” Pat phased through a door to their left, closely followed by everyone else. 

“Eyes reduced a chicken in ‘ere once.” Mary commented from the back. 

“You burnt the chicken Mary.” Pat pointed out. 

“I always smells burnings.” She smiled innocently. 

“This whole place is bloody massive!” Stef looked around, still attached to Private’s arm. 

The Captain had noticed this throughout the tour and how close they stood to one another, perhaps they were a couple. 

“I second that,” Private added, “The storage facility was large, but nothing in comparison to this.” 

“So how did you two die then?” Julian butted in with a blunt question. 

“Julian!” The Captain and Pat both scolded him. 

“That is highly inappropriate Julian!” The Captain continued, “Everybody’s death is a sensitive matter, not some trivial conversation topic.” 

“I was only asking, don’t get your military knickers in a twist.” Julian rolled his eyes. 

Stef unlinked her arm from Private and slightly held it up as if in a class at school, “To be honest, I’m not that bothered talking about mine, but Private doesn’t like to mention his.” 

Julian huffed, “It can’t be that bad. I can tell you’re a soldier but it’s not like you got horrifically stabbed or shot.” 

“Excuse me?” Thomas folded his arms defensively. 

“I didn’t mean it like that.” 

“Will you stop being so rude.” Pat attempted to get Julian to shut up. 

“For your information, you half-naked pillock, it was a deeply traumatic event that I don’t wish to speak of.” Private asserted himself, before casting his eyes downwards and swallowing hard. 

“There you go then Julian.” Pat gave him another annoyed look. 

Julian then pointed to Stef, “No no, I still want to know how the goth girl popped her clogs.” 

“My name is Stef and I am not a goth.” Stef folded her arms, then noticed the expectant look on the moron Julian’s face, “Anyways, I was in a mosh pit. Some guy kicked my head in with his boot like SUPER hard and I hit the floor.” Stef smacked her hands together to emphasise, “Turns out I had a concussion and conked out on the street outside the venue. Fuck all the paramedics could do.” 

“So that explains the-”

“Yep.” Stef gestured to a small gash just above her eye that was matched with a lovely purple bruise. 

All of a sudden the kitchen door opened to Alison, “Are you guys having fun then? We’ve just offloaded the last of the stuff if you wanted to come and see?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so the ghosts of Button House finally meet their new housemates! I've got some great ideas for down the line but any feedback would be brill :) Thanks again for reading.


	4. Stef

_ **31st October 1986** _

The smell of cigarettes and cheap booze swam through the night air. An array of brightly coloured faces lined the dirty bathroom mirrors of the women’s room. Rocky Horror was nothing compared to the amount of heavy makeup this gaggle of scary looking punks were applying. Something involving very heavy guitars and lots of cymbals flooded through the open door. A single flickering light fixture threatened to fall off at any moment, but nobody seemed to care. By a stall at the end was a teenage girl who looked an awful like Riley from Sense8, not that anyone here would know what that meant. Her makeup was pretty tame in comparison to everyone else and her dark nails brought the last remnants of a cigarette to her lips. 

“Stef! They’re coming on now!” A twig-like teenage boy with black hair called from the doorway. 

“Thanks for the warning dickwad.” The blonde dropped her cigarette on the floor and stamped it out as she left the bathroom. 

The venue wasn’t too small, but small enough to be called a basement. A thick crowd of leather-clad young people were eagerly awaiting the band on stage to start playing. Stef and her twig friend pushed their way to the middle as the singer moved to the microphone. 

“What’s up fuckers!?” The slightly malnourished looking singer lifted up two devil-horned hands. 

The crowd cheered and held up the same hands. The drummer tested out a cymbal and then clicked his sticks together to count the band in. Imagine heavy punk, and times that by ten. Everyone seemed to move together in unison as the heavy guitar chugged out it’s chords. Stef was a little short in stature, so almost got swallowed up by the people around her, luckily, halfway through the song the singer called for a mosh pit. It was like a mouth opened up in the middle as the biggest men in the crowd ushered everyone back to make the pit as big as possible. 

“OPEN THAT SHIT RIGHT UP!” The singer yelled over the top of the guitar solo. 

Stef felt herself fill with anticipation and she pushed right to the edge of the pit, ready to jump in. Everyone around her were hyping themselves up for the drum solo and the cue from the singer. The guitar solo finished up and 

“YEAHHHHH!” The singer screamed into the microphone and hell was unleashed. 

Stef screamed with all her might and sprinted straight into one of the heavy dudes. Everyone was going mental and she pretty much ran into everyone on her way round the circumference. An older girl pushed past her in the opposite direction and made her slightly trip into the middle and fall over. One of the bigger men clearly hadn’t noticed her on the floor trying to get up and- 

BANG!

His thick soled boot with a metal toe hit straight into her forehead and knocked her out cold. 

“HEY!” One of the guitarists stopped playing and noticed her sprawled on the floor. 

He shouted at the other band members to stop playing and the crowd parted like the red sea upon noticing her. 

“Holy shit!” Someone shouted as they saw her head bleeding. 

Stef’s twig-like friend pushed through the crown and skidded on his knees to reach her, “Stef, holy fuck! Someone get a fucking ambulance!”

He cradled Stef’s limp body in his arms and rocked her, pleading for her to wake up. 

By the time the paramedics had arrived at the venue, Stef had been moved to the street outside where there was fresh air, in the hope that she would come to. The band and crowd members alike were crowded round as the paramedics tried chest compressions after completing a quick evaluation. To some extent, Stef was still aware of what was going on as she faintly heard the medics mumbling about something technical. Try as she might, it was impossible for her to even lift a finger or open her eyes. She was helpless and all she could do was listen on in terror as the paramedics tried to revive her. 

“She’s going!” One of them shouted at the other. 

No, not like this. She had her whole life ahead of her. She desperately tried everything she could to move even the tiniest bit to show them she was still there. She was not going to go down without a fight. 

“Come on Stef please!” she heard her friend cry out. 

_Come on Stef, you’re not a pussy. Wake the fuck up and move! You are not dying here, not now._

Abruptly, she groaned loudly and sat straight up of her own accord, she felt very dizzy, but she was awake. 

“I’m here, I’m awake!” she cried out, but nobody in the crowd around her seemed to take any notice, “What?” 

Stef slowly stood up and turned around to see what was really going on. It was her, on the ground, _but it couldn’t be_, she was standing right there completely fine. 

“She’s gone, I’m sorry.” One of the paramedics turned to her friend. 

“No! I’m right here, look at me!” Stef shouted, still trying to comprehend what was happening. 

She crawled onto the floor and reached out to take her friend’s hand, “Look, I’m right here I’m fine.”

As she reached out, her hand went straight through him and forced a queasy feeling into her stomach. This couldn’t be happening. Was she a-

“Welcome to the afterlife, enjoy eternity.” A deep, monotone voice came from behind her. 

Turning around, Stef came face to face with a stout man in flares and a crudely tied rope around his horrifyingly broken neck. She screamed in terror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is sort of a filler in the main story because I wanted to give the characters of Stef and Private some backstory since we're all accustomed to the ghosts from the actual show. Thanks for reading :)


	5. Don't touch the rifle

It was like a really crap jumble sale with boxes and nick-nacks strewn across the gravel. The storage truck had already left and Mike was perched on the decrepit fountain examining an old oil painting of a woman that looked an awful lot like a young Fanny. As the ghosts followed Alison out, Robin took an immediate liking to a small statue of a dachshund and began to make growling noises at it. Julian spotted a traditional patterned dining chair and shouted “Bagsy!” before rushing over and planting himself down on it. Fanny tutted and muttered something about him being a child, but quickly recognised the frame that Mike was holding and hurried over to shout at him for not being careful with it. The other ghosts milled around the boxes examining the other random junk, which was a mixture of things from Victorian times, all the way up until the 90s. The Captain scanned his eyes over the detritus, but stayed stood beside Private and Stef who, for obvious reasons, didn’t bother to look through what they had co-existed with for the past decades. 

“Pardon if I am mistaken,” Private turned to the Captain, eyeing the stars on his shoulders, “But is that a soldier’s uniform?” 

The Captain proudly puffed out his chest before answering, “A Captain’s actually. The glorious second World War, though I didn’t quite manage to make it to the end.” 

“My dad fought in the war.” Stef mentioned, “He was about my age when he got sent off to France. Well, my age when I died.” 

“There were many young men under my charge, they were valiant soldiers.” The Captain reminisced. 

“You speak very highly of them, my Captain treated us like cannon fodder.” Private half laughed. 

Out of nowhere, Robin began to shout and grunt as he pointed to something propped up against a box. 

“Bang bang! Big long bang!” He yelled and jumped hysterically, “Bang that kill Thomas but big!” 

Alison tried to figure out what Robin was trying to articulate with his limited vocabulary. Bang that kill Thomas? She looked over at the ghost and saw his gunshot wound; of course. She walked over to Robin and saw a long antique rifle and picked it up to examine it. Private looked alert and rushed over to her. 

“Be terribly careful with that!” Private implored, “That is the object I’m attached to.” 

“Is this yours?” 

“I had it with me when... I died.” He explained. 

“So you died in battle then? Detective Fawcett is gathering the clues!” Julian teased, before earning a slap over the head from Fanny. 

“A beautiful piece of weaponry,” The Captain complimented and walked over to take a closer look, “Of course you must not have had semi-automatic back in your day, but-”

“NO!” Private yelled, grabbing the Captain’s hand as he reached towards the gun, “I apologise sir, but you cannot touch it.” 

“Whyever not?” The Captain seemed a little taken aback. 

“I suppose that is my one rule.” Private continued to speak in the Captain’s direction, although addressing all the other ghosts, “No ghost is permitted to touch my rifle.” 

“You really don’t want to, trust me.” Stef added on with a shameful look on her face, “I did it accidentally once. It’s a bad idea.” 

“Why? What happens if you touch it?” Pat enquired. 

“Just don’t.” was Stef’s voice caught in her blunt reply. 

***

_ 1997 _

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to, it was an accident I just-” Stef sobbed into Privates tunic as he held her, confused. 

“Stef whatever is the matter? You are hysterical!” Private held her tighter. 

“I touched the rifle!” She wailed, trying to steady her breathing, but failing. 

“My god you poor soul!” Private held her head close, rocking her back and forth. 

***

“Oh cool, a record player.” Mike said from behind them, lifting up the top clumsily and messing with the needle. 

“Now _that’s_ a beautiful piece of weaponry.” Pat grinned ear to ear at the familiar object, “I’m pretty sure I had this exact model before I… well, before.” 

“Do you guys know if there are any records in these boxes?” Alison turned to Private and Stef, who were now stood together again. 

“Not a clue,” Stef folded her arms, covering an anarchy symbol that was stitched into her jacket, “I’d be surprised if the bloody thing still works.” 

“I could help you get it going.” Pat suggested. 

“Don’t get your hopes up.” Stef butted in, “My dad spilled tea over it in ‘85 and it hasn’t been turned on since.” 

“This is yours?” Alison picked it out of Mike’s hands. 

Stef walked over, shadowed by Private, “That’s my object. After I died my parents pawned a lot of my stuff to be able to afford a funeral, so this player was then sold on to some old woman that never used it and chucked it straight into storage.” 

“Lady Heather Button.” Alison breathed. 

“I didn’t know her name, the old hag had a face like a lemon though.” Stef muttered, staring down at the record player. 

Everyone apart from Mike slowly turned to face Fanny who looked even more outraged than before at Stef. Alison felt the tension rising by the second and intervened before any more insults were thrown. 

“Right! Uh,” she clapped her hands together and grabbed a random box, “Lets get this stuff inside, shall we?” 

Mike returned his attention and picked up the record player and followed Alison inside. 

***

Later that night after Alison and Mike had gone to bed and most of the other ghosts had retired to their respective rooms, Stef stayed up into the early hours of the morning wandering the corridors. She had no particular direction, just staring down at her feet and putting one boot in front of the other. It was all a bit overwhelming for her; the big house, the other ghosts, the fact that a living person was now able to see her. In comparison to the other ghosts (bar the trouser-less politician and the scout leader) she hadn’t been dead all that long, even though 30 odd years seemed like forever. She had spent most of her death in ignorance, shut off from the world with only a 200 year old soldier to keep her company, but now she had access to so much space and a cast of colourful characters to interact with; it was all a bit too much. Without warning, she bumped into a familiar red tunic. 

“Stef? What are you doing awake?” Private stopped her in the narrow passage way they both found themselves in. 

“I could ask you the same thing buddy.” She tried to put on a smile, but didn’t fool him. 

“I suppose… getting a feel for the place.” Private was slightly caught off guard by her question, “We will be here for the foreseeable future.” 

“It’s a little scary, you know,” Stef nervously played with a superfluous zip on her jacket, “It’s stupid, really. It feels like the first day of a new school and you don’t know which seat to pick in case it belongs to someone else and you haven’t got any friends so you sit by yourself at lunch and-”

Private cut her off by placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, “You are not alone, Stef. You have me and you know that.” 

She smiled up at him and wrestled him into an affectionate bear hug. He returned it and held the back of her head close to his chest. 

From the end of the corridor just out of sight, the Captain, who had been on his nightly round, watched the two friends embrace. Something stirred in the pit of his stomach.


	6. Ice Breaker

The first morning with the new housemates was quite awkward. The Ghosts had congregated in their usual spot in the living room and Private and Stef had sort of joined them, but stood off to one side away from the main group. 

“Well, why don’t we all start with names and an interesting fact about ourselves?” Pat tried to coordinate what he seemed to think was a good ice breaker. 

“We already know each other’s names.” Julian was slumped in an armchair with one leg slung over the arm. 

“And, quite frankly Patrick, this is not a scout group,” The Captain added, “I’m sure we’ll all come to know Private and Stef in due course.” 

“Where is the fun in that Captain?” Kitty tried to back Pat up, “I think Pat’s idea is wonderful. Can I go first?” 

This question was met with uncomfortable silence as Pat and the Captain stared each other down. 

“My name is Kitty and I love pretty bows!” Kitty went ahead anyway. 

Robin moved away from the chessboard, intrigued by what Kitty had said, “Ok ok my turn! Me Robin and... me here before house was.” 

“Mmm,” Private eyed the prehistoric man, “I think I quite gathered that.” 

“Very long time.” Robin emphasised. 

Pat grinned at the fact his ice breaker had started to work, “Alright then, my name’s Pat and I used to have a lovely labrador called Barney when I was a child.” 

“I’m Mary.” Mary introduced herself, smouldering a little as she turned to face Private and Stef, “And once I only ates potatoes and turnips for a whole week.” 

The direction of travel the conversation had made around the room now found itself at Private. 

“Right, uh,” He muttered, trying to think of something interesting enough about himself, “I am Private and before I joined the army l was a professional pickpocket.” 

“A pickpocket?” Pat said in surprise, eyeing up the smart, self-respecting soldier. 

“Well, I didn’t grow up very wealthy.” Private explained, “You did what you could.” 

“Beats stealing pick ‘n’ pix from the corner shop.” Pat half laughed, but the joke was lost on Private, “...Anyways, what about you Stef?”

“Alright then,” Stef folded her arms and thought for a moment, “I’m Stef and, uh, I don’t know.” 

“It can be anything you want.” Pat encouraged her. 

“Uh, one time I met Robert Smith.” She said, only really getting a response from Pat and Julian, “Decent bloke.” 

“Robert Smith?” Alison walked into the room brandishing a mug of tea. 

“Yeah, ‘83.” Stef replied, slightly proud, “Waited at the stage door.” 

With Stef and Alison finding a strange common ground in 80’s gothic bands, the other ghosts sort of abandoned the conversation they had previously been having and disappeared into the house. Private noticed the now vacant chairs by the chessboard and sat down in one of them, examining the board like he actually knew how to play. The Captain, who was still stood behind the sofa contemplated sitting down with Private to make conversation, but decided against it and turned a heel to patrol the corridors. 

***

There were wires everywhere and Mike sat in a sort of awkward yoga position on the floor in front of Stef’s record player. A plug in the nearest socket was connected to a wire that was connected to nothing. Mike tried to examine the different sockets on the back of the player, but they might as well have been written in hieroglyphics. 

“He’s an idiot, I knew it.” Stef was perched on the sofa arm behind him and Private was on the floor with Mike, looking as confused as him. 

“Hey, records have been out of fashion for a while.” Pat pointed out, watching Mike closely from beside Private. 

“Yeah, CDs are the future, you’re not going to want to lug around a disc the size of a dinner plate every time you want to listen to Queen.” Julian commented from behind Stef. 

Mike plugged a wire in and a red light lit up by the needle. He looked pleased with himself and pretended to play the turntable like a DJ, earning a disapproving look from Stef and Pat. 

“Don’t do that you muppet!” Stef got off her perch to come and have a closer look, “You’re gonna break the bloody thing.” 

“Daddy fixed the record player.” Mike sung to himself, picking up the player and setting it down on a table by a window. 

“Daddy just plugged in a wire.” Julian parroted, sprawling himself over an armchair. 

Mike made to leave the room and narrowly missed Pat’s head as he, Private and Stef looked at the now working player sat on the table. He returned with a pink plastic bag brandishing the letters ‘HMV’ and set it down by the player. 

“God, that place is still going?” Stef spotted the logo of the dog and the gramophone. 

Mike disappeared into the house, calling for Alison who had gone off earlier to do something with the skirting boards. He ended up coming back with his wife and, unknowingly, most of the other ghosts, bar Lady Button and the Captain. 

“Ta daa!” He gestured to the record player. 

“Oh brilliant!” Alison then turned to Stef, “You must be chuffed.” 

“Yeah, well, apart from when he almost broke it.” She replied in her regular monotone sarcasm. 

“What’s in the bag?” Alison asked, pointing to the HMV logo sat beside the player. 

“I thought you’d never ask.” Mike gestured for her to take it. 

Alison picked up the bag and took out an array of small records ranging from singles of random one hit wonders from the 70s to obscurities from the 40s. Alison threw him a confused look. 

“Since when did we have the money to just go out and buy records?”

“They were on sale.” Mike explained, “Like… really cheap sale.” 

Alison raised her eyebrows in suspicion. 

“I found them in one of the storage boxes.” Mike caved, “I just wanted to make it look like I’d made an effort.” 

Alison took one of the 40’s looking records and placed it on the turntable. The needle was a little stiff as she tried to drag it over, but as soon as the familiar crackling noise emitted from the mediocre speakers, everyone listened in. A lone trumpet played a jazz-like tune and the Captain, who had just appeared in the doorway after hearing the others, froze on the spot. He was instantly brought back in time by the familiar tune...


	7. The chap with the arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The main sort of plot of this chapter was inspired by the song 'It's Been A Long, Long Time by Harry James and Helen Forrest' and I know the timeline doesn't fit with when the song was released, but the tune and the lyrics fit well with the story.

** _1934_ **

A younger, moustache-less Captain sat at the bar by himself, beer in hand. Chairs and tables had been moved around to make space in front of the makeshift stage where a band were preparing to play. Assortments of brass instruments were being cleaned and what looked like a cello through his tipsy haze rested in the corner. His uniform was instead a casual shirt with the sleeves rolled up and boring grey trousers to match; his army jacket was draped over his shoulders. 

With another sip of his beer, the band began to play and couples milling around moved to the open space and started to dance. It was a slow song; the couples dancing assumed the slow dance position and swayed gently from side to side. The women leaned softly into their male counterparts and flowed like liquid across the floor. It was almost poetic as the Captain (then Sergeant) watched on from a distance as the trumpet player in the band blasted out the rhythmic tune. 

As his eyes danced around the room they landed on a particularly handsome young man dancing with a short, blonde woman. For some inexplicable reason he couldn’t take his eyes off the chap and his almost infectious smile. The mousy brown hair that fell perfectly over his forehead and his strong arms that held the blonde made him melt a little inside. The Captain had no idea how long he had been staring for, but for a split second the man caught his gaze and he averted his eyes, feeling a blush creep up his cheeks. His eyes found their way to his drink, which was nearing the bottom of the glass, and he carelessly ran his fingers around the rim as he thought of the beautiful man and his piercing gaze. 

Time must have escaped him once more, because as he was brought back to his senses and was about to order another beer, the man that had been gliding across the dancefloor had now materialised directly next to him. 

“Hello there.” He greeted him, a sort of smirk creeping up the side of his face. 

“Oh, uh, hello.” The Captain awkwardly replied, straightening himself up and puffing out his chest as if he were addressing his military superior. 

“Not much of a dancer?” the man asked as he leaned over the bar to try and get the bartender’s attention. 

“Uh, excuse me?” He tried to act nonchalant, but the constant stumbling over his words was a dead giveaway, and the man seemed to catch on. 

“Do you not dance?” The man repeated himself, smiling. 

“No, I uh, its just I-”

The man started to laugh to himself, “Don’t worry, this isn’t an interrogation. You want another beer?” 

“No, let me.” The Captain mirrored the man’s stance over the bar to try and get the bartender’s attention. 

The bartender noticed the man first and he ordered two beers for them. He threw a smug smile over at the Captain, who pretended to be offended. 

“I’m Jack, by the way.” he introduced himself as they sipped the beers. 

The band played on in the background and The Captain and Jack got on like a house on fire, talking about nothing in particular. Jack had complimented him on his military jacket and thanked him for his service, and the Captain had tried his best to return it and compliment him on his dancing, but in a more awkward fashion. He loved the way Jack’s eyes crinkled when he smiled and how gently his lips pressed to the glass when he took a sip. At a certain point the Captain had sort of drowned out what Jack was saying, and the music drifting over from the band had become muffled in his ears as he watched Jack’s every little move. For a brief moment, he completely forgot that the thoughts racing through his head and the way he was staring at this man in front of him could land him in a mental hospital. He completely forgot the pain he felt every day for being different, for being wrong, and basked in the pure elation (and slight excess of alcohol) of spending this time with Jack. 

Later in the night as the bar started to filter out, the Captain and Jack finished the last of what must have been countless pints of the golden liquid. The Captain could feel the floor swaying under his feet and undoubtedly Jack could too. 

“Do you want to get some air?” Jack suggested, loosely holding onto the side of the bar for support. 

“Good idea.” The Captain breathed, squeezing his eyes to try and fight the nausea. 

They stumbled out of the bar into the cold night air and Jack missed a step, tripping into the Captain, who caught him on instinct. They paused awkwardly and he held him, before Jack slurred a ‘thank you’ and they proceeded to walk out into the street. A cold breeze blew past them and Jack shivered in his thin shirt. 

“Here, take my jacket.” The Captain took off his military jacket and drunkenly thrust it into Jack’s hands with a smile. 

Jack clutched at the jacket and furrowed his brow at the Captain, “No, I can’t I-” 

“Just put it on, you dead hoofer.” The Captain joked, giving Jack’s shoulder a playful tap. 

Jack gave in and clumsily swung it round his shoulders and put his arms in. The Captain had been definitely sure Jack couldn’t get any more attractive, but seeing him in his military jacket made his drunken mind even more in love with the man. The piercing cold air found its way to him, but he didn’t mind as he watched Jack out of the corner of his eye wrapping the coat around his body, as it was a little too big for his thinner frame. They turned into a dimly lit empty alley as a shortcut, whose drunken idea it had been neither of them knew, but the Captain wasn’t complaining when Jack swayed closer and closer to him as they walked side by side. All of a sudden, Jack stopped in his tracks and seemed to be thinking hard about something. 

“Are you alright, Jack?” The Captain asked, a little concerned that he was about to either fall over or throw up. 

Jack just stood there, his eyebrows knitted together like a patchwork quilt. He swayed a little due to the amount of alcohol that had found its way into him over the course of the evening, but he didn’t fall over; he just stood there, thinking about something. 

“Jack, is something the matter?” The Captain attempted to get a response out of him. 

“I never asked you if you’ve got a wife?” he eventually slurred out. 

“Oh, uh…” The Captain stuttered, a little taken aback at the randomness of the question. He actually tended to avoid that question all together due to the fact he wasn’t getting any younger and most people his age had already settled down. He avoided it because people would start to _ suspect _. 

“Because I haven’t.” Jack ignored the Captain’s lack of response, “Haven’t even got a girlfriend, would you believe.” 

“Oh, right.” The Captain, in his similarly drunken state, tried to take in everything he was saying. 

Jack half stumbled and the Captain caught him once again, by the shoulders this time, and he stood him back up. A strange smile crept onto Jack’s face, one that sort of conveyed cunning and drunken scheming, if that was even a thing. 

“You know what my mother calls me sometimes?” Jack stared into his eyes, the grin still plastered onto him. 

“No, what does she call you?” The Captain played along, still holding Jack upright by the shoulders. 

Jack sniggered a little before responding, “She calls me… ‘light in the loafers’... and I don’t even own loafers!” 

It took the Captain’s nauseous state a moment to take in what Jack was saying, but he recognised that phrase all too well. Joining the army had ironed out any ‘kinks’ he had in his stature, but now that the man he had found extremely attractive was admitting to having a bit of a ‘swagger’ in his walk, he felt himself grow even more infatuated with him. 

Then they stood there for a moment. Neither one of them spoke and they just stared into each others eyes. The smile slowly dropped from Jack’s lips, but the Captain didn’t notice because he was too engulfed in the beauty of his eyes. He also didn’t notice the space between them becoming thinner and thinner, or how he could now feel Jack’s gentle breath on his face. 

“Would you mind terribly if I did something quite illegal?” Jack whispered into the space between them. 

“I don’t know.” The Captain whispered back, still entranced by Jack’s eyes, “It would depend-”

Jack kissed him. It was soft and gentle, but also drunken and sloppy. The cold night air had seemingly disappeared as Jack held the Captain’s face to his with tender hands. The Captain kissed back, and thanked God that they were alone in this moment; just him and Jack in this empty alley, away from the judging eyes of society.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my attempt at a Captain backstory that I thought would fit nicely into the main fic. As I was writing this I thought it would be good as a stand-alone one shot, so I'm going to put it up separately as well as in here :)
> 
> Also for a bit of context- 'light in the loafers' is a phrase used to describe how effeminate gay men move/walk.


	8. Chaise Longue

The Captain was brought back out of his thoughts as Thomas appeared behind him and sighed loudly. He rolled his eyes and looked back into the room to see Alison and Mike clumsily slow dancing around the room, almost knocking into the odd chair or scaffolding support beam. Kitty had joined the congregation at some point too, and had roped Pat into dancing with her, much to his objection. The needle skipped a groove on the record and the song suddenly switched to something a little more upbeat. 

“Oh that’s more like it!” Stef jumped off her perch on the table beside the player and joined the others in dancing, resembling something more like Uma Thurman in Pulp Fiction. 

Alison laughed at her dancing and copied her, with Mike recognising it and pretending to be John Travolta. Pat paused and sat down, trying to catch his breath, but Kitty kept up her cheerful energy and swayed playfully along to the music with the others. The music picked up pace and Stef’s shuffling turned into more of a harsh punk style that was more suited to her. She side-stepped her way over to Private, who was stood still and stoic in the corner. 

“Come on!” Stef took his arms that were clasped behind his back and tried to entice him into the middle of the room. 

“No, Stef, I don’t dance you-”

“Oh don’t be such a wet sock.” Stef groaned, holding his hands and twisting from side to side to make his shoulders move to the music. 

Private threw a pleading glance over at the Captain, who couldn’t help but stifle a laugh as the younger soldier was dragged by his friend to dance with the others. Kitty tried to get Julian to dance too, but his sarcastic (and quite frankly blasphemous) rendition of the macarena resulted in a few grossed out faces. Stef walked Private around the room rhythmically like he was a small child taking his first steps. 

The Captain tried not to stare, but Private’s awkwardness was so endearing and he couldn’t help but see something more than a soldier in the man. He had been immediately impressed by his uniform and army-like posture, which he hadn’t seen in anyone for a long time. The way he saluted the Captain as a mark of respect, despite not knowing him and probably being over 50 years older than him, evoked something deep within him. He abruptly realised his eyes had been intently following the young soldier around the room and averted them to the floorboards he stood on instead. 

Julian gave him a side-eye from the chaise longue. 

***

Between work and renovations, Alison and Mike had barely had any time to go through most of the stuff from the storage container, which left it mostly strewn along the hallway and in the living room. The new ghosts Stef and Private, despite having spent many decades living amongst the stuff, didn’t really have a clue what most of it was or where it came from. To be fair, a lot of it had been tucked away inside vaguely labelled storage boxes and festered in the pitch black, so they needn’t have made any effort to decipher the contents. 

Amongst the half-opened contents of the boxes laid a surprisingly well preserved framed mirror, quite similar to the smashed one that hung in the living room already. There was a cloth draped over it and it was behind an array of detritus from the 90s, but the Captain took a particular interest in it and frequently stopped in his round of the house to take a lingering look at it as he passed. This had not gone unnoticed by the other ghosts, but none of them had asked him about it, figuring that he might have just remembered it being in the house in the war when he and his men were stationed there. Stef had been the one to break the silence when most of the ghosts happened to be in the same room one afternoon. 

“Hey Captain?” She called over from her perch on one of the windowsills. 

The ranking officer turned stiffly and acknowledged her. 

“What’s with you and that mirror?” She continued, “Did it belong to you or something? Because, no offence, but you look at it like some sort of long lost lover.” 

“Well Stephanie.” The Captain began, but was interrupted by-

“It’s Stef.” 

“If I am not mistaken, Stephanie is your God given name, so I shall use that to address you.” The Captain was a little irritated by her interruption. 

“Actually it’s Stephano Italianto pizza pasta Mussolini.” A mischievous grin crawled across her lips and Private, who stood beside her like a suit of armour, rolled his eyes. 

A chuckle arrupted from Julian, who was sat across from Robin at the chessboard, “Yeah, pull the other one, it’s got bells on it!” 

“What has bells on it?” Kitty asked innocently. 

From there the conversation went off on a tangent about metaphors that the older ghosts didn’t really understand. The Captain was actually a little thankful for a boring conversation for once, because he really didn’t want to answer Stef’s question, or rather make up some lie on the spot. How else do you go about saying ‘Yeah my secret boyfriend got it for me as a gift before I was drafted and I used the frame to hide his love letters.’ 

***

“What the bally hell are you doing sir?” The Captain walked in on Mike trying to remove the smashed mirror from the wall in the living room. 

The similar looking mirror that he had been not-so-obviously eyeing the past few days was now resting on one of the sofas, still covered in a dusty cloth. 

The Captain pointed his swagger stick threateningly, “You better not be…”

“Daddy gon’ replace the broken mirror!” Mike sung to himself, severely out of tune. 

“Don’t you dare touch that,” The Captain stood between Mike and the unbroken mirror, “It belongs to me and you have no right to…”

Mike picked up the mirror from the sofa and wrestled it over to the wall, which now bore a bright red square from where the sun hadn’t faded the wallpaper. 

“As ranking officer I demand that you…”

“Daddy hopes he’s not too heavy!” Mike haphazardly felt around for the hook on the back and clambered up on a table in order to reach the nail in the wall. 

It took several tries and a lot of uncomfortable and agitated sounds from the Captain, but he finally managed to get the mirror up on the wall semi-straight. Standing back, Mike looked up at his handiwork. The cloth was still draped over the front and the Captain was momentarily taken out of himself as he remembered looking into the reflective glass for the first time, staring back at his lover. Mike dramatically unsheathed the cloth, throwing up a cloud of dust that made then both recoil, even though it went straight through the Captain. The golden/bronze frame exquisitely framed the almost immaculate glass as the two men stared into it. 

“HOLY SHIT!”


	9. Man in the Mirror

“ALISON!?” Both men shouted for her simultaneously. 

No response. Mike slowly turned back towards the mirror and his eyes met the Captain’s. There he was, reflected back at himself; a face the Captain had not seen in over seventy years. His mouth lay agape as he meticulously scanned his own shocked face. There he was, clear as day. 

“Holy shit.” Mike repeated himself, but under his breath this time. 

The Captain felt tempted to reprimand him on his language, but he was still frozen so the spot. They stared at each other through the glass for god knows how long in complete and utter disbelief. Mike also seemed lost for words, staring at the Captain in a manner that he would usually consider rude, but given the circumstances he had a bigger fish to fry. 

“Are you the Captain?” Mike finally spoke. 

“Use your eyes man, of course I am.” The Captain composed himself and turned to Mike. 

“I can’t… hear you.” Mike murmured, looking from the apparently empty space beside him and back to the mirror where the Captain stood, clear as day. 

“Good lord.” A voice spoke from the other end of the room and the Captain turned around to see Private, accompanied by Stef and Pat, who had been giving them a tour of the house. 

“Captain!” Pat pointed in astonishment, “You’re in the mirror!” 

“Yes, thank you for noticing, Patrick.” The Captain sarcastically replied as the other three ghosts made their way over to him, “I hadn’t realised until just now.” 

“But how?” Stef peered into the mirror from behind the Captain, staring at his reflection. 

“I am yet to figure that one out.” The Captain replied, puffing his chest out and returning to look at Mike. 

Mike looked aimlessly at the space around him, “I’m guessing you’re talking to some other ghosts.”

The Captain simply nodded back at him through the glass. All of a sudden, Alison came clambering through the door covered in some sort of white paint. 

“What do you want?” He sighed, catching her breath and inadvertently printing a white hand mark on her dungarees, “You nearly scared the shit out of me, both of you.” 

Mike didn’t reply and instead pointed a finger at the mirror on the wall. Alison’s eyes followed his finger, but from where she was stood she couldn’t see the glass. 

“Oh nice, is that a new mirror?” She asked, noticing the shinier frame. 

Mike continued to point at it and Alison looked to the ghosts in confusion, but they were also gesturing towards the mirror. It was only then she noticed that the Captain looked very pale. Her brow furrowed and she walked over to stand beside Stef and looked into the mirror. What the fuck?

“Captain!” Alison exclaimed, “You’re in the mirror!” 

“That’s what I said.” Pat chipped in. 

“But how?” Alison’s brain tried to comprehend what was happening. 

“That is what we are still yet to figure out.” The Captain replied, looking at Alison through the mirror. 

“FUCKING HELL!” the sound of Julian’s voice echoed over from the other end of the room. 

Everyone apart from Mike turned around to see him stood with his mouth agape pointing at the mirror. 

“Language, Julian!” The Captain scolded. 

“Nevermind my language, Captain. You’re in the fucking mirror!” Julian exclaimed, striding over. 

“For God’s sake will everyone please stop pointing out that my reflection is in the damn mirror!” The Captain cried out, a little exasperated from three different people pointing out the same exact thing, which was obvious in the first place. 

“Maybe that’s your power!” Pat suggested. 

“Power?” Stef retorted. 

“Like Julian.” Pat explained. 

Stef turned to Julian quizzically. 

“I can move stuff.” He explained. 

“AND I DO LIGHT!” the familiar grunting shout of the caveman echoed as he stumbled in and made one of the lamps flicker. 

“Yes Robin, we know you do the lights. Stop it!” The Captain ordered. Somehow the novelty of seeing his own reflection again was being overshadowed by the annoyance of people pointing it out. 

“Bit of a shit power.” Stef gestured to the mirror, “I mean, what are you gonna do? Loom over people if they happen to be stood over here?” 

“Stef! Don’t be rude.” Private pushed her shoulder as a warning. 

***

Due to the excitement of having new ghosts around (and the unexpected discovery of the Captain’s power), the ghoulish residents of the house seemed to have forgotten all about food club that week. It was only brought up when Pat walked in on Alison doing ‘her lasagna’ that evening. 

“Food club?” 

“Yes, Stef.” Pat explained once everyone was gathered in the living room, “We talk about different foods we miss eating. It’s also a really good way to get to know one another. Just don’t ask Julian about fondue.” 

“It’s a perfectly acceptable way to eat cheese!” Julian argued from beside the chessboard. 

“What is the point in melting it in the first place then?” Thomas flapped his hand about in retort. 

“Guys! Can we drop it?” Pat tried to stop the argument before it got out of hand, “Why don’t we have Stef or Private go first?” 

Stef and Private both looked at each other, expecting the other to volunteer. 

“I don’t know what you’re looking at me for, Stef.” Private finally spoke, “The most exciting thing I ever ate was a banana.” 

“Alright then, you bloody stick-in-the-mud.” Stef sighed and climbed off the chair arm to stand beside Pat, “Uhhh.” 

“It can be anything.” Pat encouraged her as she thought. 

“Tell you what, I don’t half miss 3am kebab.” Stef half laughed. 

“Ditto.” Julian seconded it. 

“What be a kebab?” Mary lifted a hand as if in a class at school. 

“Honestly, I’m not quite sure.” Stef replied, “It’s pretty much pure grease with different types of mashed up meat in one long turkey twizzler-looking thing. My dad used to tell me it was a baby elephant leg whenever we walked past.” 

“What is the significance of consuming it at 3 o’clock in the morning?” Thomas asked while grimacing at what he imagined kebab meat looked like. 

Stef sent Julian a knowing look, which he returned with a quite frankly rude wink. Even Pat gave Stef a little smirk as she tried to figure out a way of explaining it to the older ghosts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was partially inspired by a tumblr post I saw trying to figure out what each of the ghosts powers would be through the opening titles. The Captain appears in the mirror so I thought it would be cool to try and write his reaction to that.


	10. Kissing Frogs

The next morning the Captain was stood in front of the mirror again, still trying to contemplate the surreality of being able to see his own reflection again. He’d gotten so used to walking past reflective surfaces and not having his own face stare back at him. He watched the way his moustache wiggled on his lip as he sniffed and how the small wrinkles on his eyes creased as he squinted. He’d never really thought of it like this, but now he was able to stare himself in the eye, being able to see yourself in a mirror truly was a luxury. 

“It is your mirror.” 

“Christ, Robin!” The Captain jumped as Robin’s lack of reflection allowed him to sneak up on him, “What did you say?” 

“You in mirror because it’s your mirror.” Robin pointed at the glass with a grubby finger. 

“Wh-what makes you think it’s mine?” The Captain got a little flustered. 

“I see you when you were alive.” Robin elaborated, “You kiss the picture of the man and put it in there.” 

“Good lord.” The Captain felt something guttural that he hadn’t felt in a long time. He spluttered and struggled to get any words out; his cheeks began to turn an uncomfortable shade of pink. 

“Oh, don’t worry!” Robin noticed how frightened the Captain looked, a very rare occurrence, “No one else see you, only me. I don’t tell anyone, but I don’t see why it so bad?” 

“It’s, uh, not the done thing, Robin.” He explained to the caveman, trying to scramble some ounce of dignity, “It’s a, ahem, it’s an illness of the mind.” 

“My brother kissed lots of boys.” Robin failed to grasp what he was telling him, “He wasn’t ill, he just say he had lots of love to give.” 

“If only that were true-”

“He also ate a lot of frogs.” Robin carried on, ignoring the Captain and interrupting, “That probably made him ill. He kissed the frogs too.” 

The Captain rolled his eyes and pinched his nose as Robin continued to enthuse about the different types of frogs his brother apparently kissed. 

***

Alison was out in the garden wrestling with a particularly hefty weed when she spotted Fanny inspecting the overgrown orchids. She finished pulling out some sort of Frankenstein dandelion before getting up off the floor and wiping her brow with a gloved hand. 

“Alison.” Fanny saw her pop out from behind the hedge. 

“Hello, Fanny.” Alison internally rolled her eyes, “How are you?” 

“A little displeased if I am honest, Alison.” Fanny replied, “That nuisance of a teenager, Stephanie does not belong in my house.” 

“Well, I quite like her.” Alison remembered how they had connected over their similar taste in music. 

“She is a Satan worshipper, you know?” Fanny raised her eyebrows so high they almost disappeared into her hair, “All over that jacket of hers, pentagrams and ungodly phrases like ‘sex pistols’. I am stunned that she didn’t plummet straight into the eternal fires, not to mention the disrespect she shows Private. I don’t know how a respectable man of the army would stoop so low for someone like her.” 

“Oh yeah, I have noticed they’re practically attached at the hip.” Alison tried to ignore Fanny’s Satan comments and stifled a laugh when she mentioned the Sex Pistols, “Look, if they’re happy together there’s nothing we can do, or should do for that matter. Stef probably doesn’t even worship Satan, by the way. Lots of people back then just put those symbols on their jackets because it looked cool, and the Sex Pistols are just a band.” 

“An ungodly name, they should be ashamed.” Fanny scoffed and took herself off back to the house. 

Alison rolled her eyes again, properly this time, and returned to the monstrous weeds. That comment Fanny made stuck in her head though, about Stef and Private being together; she had never really paid much attention to it before. The more she thought about it, she had never seen one without the other over the past week or so that they had been there. They always looked at each other quite fondly and it was unmistakable once you really paid attention to it. 

She’d never really thought of the ghosts in that respect before, finding love after death and all that. She knew the ghosts could touch each other, but none of the button house residents were very touchy-feely, apart from maybe Pat or Kitty. 

***

“So the Queen can only go there?” Stef pointed to a square on the chessboard between her and Julian. 

“No, she can go anywhere.” Julian explained, “So if I do this…” 

Julian used his power to move the Queen left a bit. 

“That’s not fair play, you have already got a pawn there.” Private pointed out. 

It was strange how a number of different chessboards were conveniently placed around Button House. Currently, Julian and Stef were sat either side of one in the library while Private watched on from beside the window. Thomas was spread out over the chaise longue, eyeing up the spines of the romantic novels on the shelves opposite him. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Julian’s sarcasm flowed out like a waterfall, “I didn’t know I was in the presence of a chess master.” 

“I didn’t intend to-” Private argued. 

“No no,” Julian butted in, “Why don’t you sit here and play your girlfriend. I’d love to see a master at work.”

Julian got up from his seat and gestured grandly for Private to sit down. The soldier felt himself getting frustrated as the half-naked politician mocked him. 

“Oh lord, don’t be so juvenile.” Private gritted his teeth in annoyance. 

“You want some?” Julian threatened as Private stepped forward as a warning. 

“This is the problem with men, you all talk with your bloody fists, don’t you?” Stef stood up and placed her arms between them. 

“It isn’t worth it, Private.” Thomas called over, “Julian irritates us all at some point, we just let him get on with whatever tomfoolery he decided to enact and ignore him.” 

Julian threw daggers with his eyes at Thomas and turned to do the same at Private, “I won’t stand for this. I am an elected member of parliament, I deserve more respect than this.” 

“Was.” Stef crossed her arms. 

“Excuse me?”

“_WAS_ a member of parliament.” Stef reiterated, smirking. 

“Listen here you berks, I...” Julian seemed to struggle for a witty comeback and just stood there gaping like a goldfish before settling for a threatening stare before storming off.


	11. Drill

The sun had barely come up over the horizon and Private looked out into the vast gardens in front of the house. Ever since he had arrived, there had been an idea in the back of his head squirming around. He surveyed the large gravelled area that separated the path from the grass and rocked on the balls of his feet thoughtfully. From his position by one of the downstairs windows, he quickly looked around to see if any of his fellow ghosts were about before sauntering out into the cold morning air. 

He breathed in the fresh air and walked over to the broken fountain. Thinking back to all those early mornings when his captain would yell at him and his fellow soldiers, he stood to attention. Private felt all the training flowing back to him and he saluted before stamping a foot into the ground and marching, swinging his arms in sync. 

“Private?” 

Private almost tripped over his feet and turned around in shock, saluting out of instinct. 

“Oh, sorry sir.” Private lowered his hand after the Captain muttered ‘at ease’. 

“Were you practising drill, Private? I’d recognise that marching anywhere.” The Captain continued. 

“Uh, yes sir,” Private replied, “Well, you see, I have not had this much... space in over two hundred years. I thought I might have a try, see if I can still remember the old routine.” 

“Do you, uh, do you mind if I join you?” The Captain queried, silently quite eager to jump back into the military driving seat, if you will. 

“Of course.” Private gestured for him to stand to attention beside him. 

The two men stood there side by side for a few moments. The Captain was hesitant, but he held his arm out and his fist touched Private’s shoulder to make sure they were the right distance apart. He then held his swagger stick aloft as if it was a rapier. 

“ATTEEEENTION!” The Captain called out loud and clear, earning a quick shout from Private as he stood up straight to salute and stamped his foot into the gravel. 

“BAYONET!” 

Private held an imaginary rifle to his right and attached an imaginary bayonet. With a ‘HUT!’ from the Captain, Private lifted up the imaginary rifle and held it against his shoulder. 

“ON THE RIGHT, QUICK MARCH!” 

The two men strode forward in sync, leading with their right foot, and marched the length of the gravel in front of the house. The Captain gave a quick shout and they turned on their heel and stomped before marching back the other way. Though neither of them said, they were both secretly really enjoying it. Private had always loved the drills when he was alive, and the Captain had always admired the sight of all his men in neat formation striding together. Though there was more than a century between their time in the army, they marched together as if they had been serving side by side for years. 

***

From one of the upstairs windows, Stef and Pat watched on as the two soldiers marched along the gravel in perfect sync. Stef smiled at her best friend as he paced alongside his newfound companion. 

“I knew they’d get along.” Pat grinned from behind her, crossing his arms and noticing her smile. 

“I’ve never seen him like this before.” Stef returned Pat’s grin, “In 30 years, not once. Sure he used to patrol a lot…”

“The Captain does that, I suppose men like them are used to a strict routine.” Pat interjected. 

“Yeah, I guess.” Stef’s eyes found their way back out of the window, “He was always on his own, striding up and down the paths like a lost toy soldier.” 

“Fate must have aligned then!” Pat let out a little chuckle, “I think it’s good… for the both of them.” 

***

The two soldiers came to a halt back where they had started and the Captain called ‘at ease’. 

“Well that was…” The Captain trailed off. 

“Yes.” Private caught his drift, “Still got some steam in the old engine then, sir?” 

“I beg your pardon?” The Captain playfully smirked at Private’s little joke. 

They both shared a moment of silence before Private let out a little chuckle, echoed by the Captain. 

“I haven’t had the chance to speak with another soldier for a very long time,” Private chewed on his lip a little and looked down at his feet. 

“Neither have I.” The Captain found himself staring at how Privates hands held themselves behind his back, “It’s a big responsibility, trying to keep the ragtag bunch in there all in order.” 

Private let out another tiny chuckle, “I, uh, thank you sir.” 

“For what?”

“The drill, sir.”

The Captain’s eyes met Privates as he looked back up, “I think it is I who should be thanking you. I didn’t think I still had steam in the old engine.” 

They shared another smile. 

“Would-” Private began, but stopped himself. 

“Yes, Private?” 

“Would you like to do this again sometime?” Private asked, a little doe-eyed. 

The Captain didn’t want to seem too eager, to try and keep up his stern reputation, but a little excited “Yes, of course!” slipped out. 

It must have surprised Private a little with his wide-eyed expression, but the feeling seemed to be mutual. 

***

“Now you’ve got different versions, but they all pretty much do the same job.” Stef stood in front of all the other ghosts, doing her talk of the day. 

She had volunteered to make a talk on the different types of mosh pits, which had inadvertently turned into an explanation of her different injuries and a passive-aggressive string of comments from Fanny. 

“Why on earth would you need to engage in such violent activity?” Thomas queried. 

“It’s fun.” Stef simply replied. 

“Can’t be that fun,” Julian scoffed, “One of them killed you.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Stef smirked and touched the wound on her head, “But when you’re in it with the music and everyone around you... it’s amazing.”

“Sounds like a warzone,” Pat commented, but then earned a sideglance from Private and the Captain, “no offence.” 

“A beastly activity, I think.” Fanny turned her nose up in disgust, “Barging into one another like farm animals in a pen, revolting.” 

“I’d like to see you survive a wall of death, you old crone!” Stef lost her temper and Private moved to stop her from getting up in Fanny’s face. 

“Stef! We don’t disrespect our elders!” Private angrily whispered, pushing her away from the others. 

“I’ll disrespect this one.” Stef threw two fingers up at Lady Button. 

It wasn’t long before Alison appeared, covered in some sort of paint and brandishing a paint roller. The argument that had once again erupted between Stef and Fanny, with Private inadvertently taking Stef’s side, was diffused by Alison and the assortment of ghoulish housemates went their separate ways. 

Alison had thought trying to live with these ghosts was going to be like managing a class of unruly children, but now with two more in the mix, especially one she had grown to like, it was all starting to get overwhelming. 


	12. Scheming

Stef, perched on the kitchen table like a small child, was watching Alison peel potatoes. With Private taking quite a liking to his fellow military ghost, Stef found herself hanging around with Allison more and more. Also, if it hadn’t been for the fact the Stef was a ghost, Alison would have got a restraining order against her muddy boots being so close to the freshly peeled potatoes. 

“So how long have you and Mike been married?” Stef watched Alison add another potato to the pile. 

“Not that long actually,” Alison replied, “And we started to look for a place of our own straight after.” 

“How did you end up here? No offence but you really don’t seem the wealthy types.” 

“Oh no, I inherited it from some great-step-aunt,” Alison explained, “Turns out she had no other living relatives.” 

“Oh, nice.” 

“What about you then?” Alison returned. 

“What?” 

“You and Private, how long?” Alison elaborated. 

“Are you implying what I think you’re implying?” 

“Well, it’s pretty obvious.” Alison scoffed, “You’re always with each other, almost always, and the way you look at each other…”

“Private isn’t my boyfriend, Alison.” Stef looked a little offended, “Are friends not allowed to show affection anymore? Me and my friends did this stuff all the time back in the 80s.” 

“Oh sorry, I just thought you were-”

“We’re not, we’re just friends.” Stef replied, a little too bluntly for Alison’s liking, “And even if we were together, I wouldn’t be calling him Private, would I?” 

An awkward silence hung between them for a few moments as Alison took the potatoes over to a boiling pan. Stef realised how aggressive she might have come across and tried to formulate some sort of apology in her head. She crawled out of her foetal position on the table and perched on the edge, facing Alison. Just as she opened her mouth to say something, Mike walked in brandishing an assortment of frozen ready meals. 

“Mike, I told you I’m making dinner tonight, I’m literally in the middle of doing the potatoes.” Alison prodded the pan. 

“Oh, right, uh.” Mike looked from the potatoes to the bag he was holding and back again. 

“Mike don’t-”

Mike then decided to dump the bag on the table… right where Stef was sat. She wretched as his hand phased through her and she stumbled off and out of the way. 

“What?” 

Alison gave him a wince. 

“Was is a ghost thing?” 

“Yep, right there.” Alison gestures towards where Stef was now standing, giving Mike a look of mild irritation. 

Mike apologised in her direction, but Stef just excused herself and left through a wall. 

***

“This is the same problem as when Alison and Michael first arrived.” Fanny lectured the ghosts that decided to listen. 

Those ghosts only really consisted of Julian, Kitty, Mary and Thomas, but Thomas didn’t count as he was staring wistfully out of the library window, which they were currently in. They had all congregated together out of a shared mutual distaste for their new undead housemates. Fanny hated Stef, for obvious reasons, which had also meant a hate for Private for having ‘a bad taste in women’. Julian had also been irritated by Stef, and he really didn’t need another soldier type marching about his house too. Kitty and Mary were, quite frankly, scared of Stef. Although Kitty had enjoyed dancing along to Stef’s record player, it didn’t make her any less frightened of the way she dressed and acted and stared at people in an unsettling way. Mary straight up believed she was a satanist, full stop. Neither of them had much against Private, but since he always sided with the punk, they kind of had to rule him out of the good books too. 

Thomas had found himself composing a particularly angry poem the other day, and he had decided it was the result of ‘negative energy’ the newcomers had brought with them. 

Fanny continued, “That filthy adolescent and a man who is supposed to be a respectable soldier have rooted themselves in my house!” 

“They are different to Alison and Mike though,” Julian interjected, “Alison and Mike have to stay because this house technically belongs to them now, and they can’t go anywhere else. Stef and Private  _ can _ .” 

“Be you suggesting somethings?” Mary put a hand up. 

“I know you have the power to move things, Julian, but I wouldn’t have thought you’d be able to pick up and carry their objects away.” Fanny pointed out. 

“Yes, Fanny, I am aware of that.” Julian employed his ‘politician’s tone’ and stood up to address the others, “I have been thinking, and I would like to propose to you all a scheme of such intricacy that I have every confidence that it will rid us of our little… problem.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this one is a bit shorter but I felt it ended in a good enough place to cut it off for the next one. Hope yous enjoyed and more to come soon :)


	13. Could you promise me something?

“Private?!” Alison called out for the soldier, entering the main living room. 

His distinctive red tabard phased through a wall behind her, closely followed by the familiar brown of the Captain’s uniform. 

It was common now on a morning to see the two men together. They had formed some sort of unspoken pact doing drill every now and then and their military bond had certainly become a strong one. The Captain had also formed a bond with Stef too; she would often talk about her father being in the war and he liked to listen to the stories as it brought him back to ‘the good old  days’. This new triad was somewhere near the top of Julian and Fanny’s list of annoyances. 

“Good Morning, Alison.” Private greeted her, which was closely seconded by the Captain. 

“Hey guys!” Alison smiled back, “Private, I found this old display case at the back of a cupboard and I think it’s for a gun. Would you like me to put your rifle in it? It could go nicely on the mantle.” 

Alison lifted up a long glass display case and shoved it onto the piano so both of them could take a closer look. 

“‘Ello, ‘ello, ‘ello!” Stef appeared behind Alison and made her jump, “What are we all looking at?” 

“It’s some fine woodwork on the base.” The Captain commented as he leaned over to look closer. 

“Would my rifle even fit within it?” Private eyed up the length before glancing over at his rifle propped up against the table in the corner. 

“Pretty sure,” Alison replied as she walked over to pick it up and brought it over to the case. 

She gently placed it on the stands and it was a perfect fitSome resemblance of a smile crawled onto Private’s face as he looked at it proudly. Alison the ut the glass casing over the top of it and hauled it over to the mantlepiece. 

“Magnificent.” The Captain uttered under his breath. 

Private gave him a glance out of the corner of his eye as the corner of his mouth lifted and Stef smirked a little as she noticed. 

Just round the corner of the doorframe at the other end of the room, Fanny and Julian watched their every move with a squinted gaze. 

“Private seems to have grown quite close to the Captain,” Fanny whispered to Julian, “Do you think he will get in our way?” 

“Shouldn’t do,” Julian replied as they watched Stef link her arm into Private’s and Alison left the room, “We just have to be careful he doesn’t catch on.” 

“Catch what?” Robin suddenly appeared behind them and made them jump. 

“None of your business, you smelly oaf.” Fanny screwed up her nose and promptly turned on her heel to leave. 

“Chess?” Robin turned on the puppy dog eyes and gestured to the empty chairs by the chessboard. 

“Oh alright then.” Julian sighed. 

***

Alison had been trying to spend the afternoon sorting through the miscellaneous junk from storage, but constant mutterings from Mary, who had decided to join her, made the task very hard. 

“In cahoots with the Devil, I tell you.” Mary muttered on about Stef, who, according to her, had taunted her about being a satanist. 

“Mary,” Alison sighed, finally fed up with her incessant mumbling, “Could you please just shut up for five minutes?” 

“How long be five minutes?” 

Alison felt her eyeballs do a somersault into the back of her skull, “Just be quiet please.” 

“But you need to be warned about that girl.” Mary pointed a shaky finger at her, “She is bringing black magic into this house. She always be looking suspicious and scary.” 

“Mary, that’s just how she looks.” Alison picked up a box of old photographs and tossed them to one side. 

“Well don’t say I never tolds you so.” Mary got up and left through a wall. 

***

The Captain and Private stood there silently, watching over the still, calm lake. The Captain held his swagger stick behind him and rolled it over in his hands. Private sighed and tried to sneak a look at the Captain through his peripheral vision. He felt something come over him, like he felt close to the Captain all of a sudden, like he wanted to tell him all of his secrets. Perhaps he was just being delusional, they were both soldiers, that was their only similarity. Nothing more. 

“Waterloo.” Private couldn’t help but splutter out after the comfortable silence they shared. 

“Pardon?” 

“I... died at the Battle of Waterloo.” Private elaborated, not daring to look anywhere but at his feet. 

“Good lord.” The Captain breathed, remembering how he had learnt of it in school, “I’m so sorry.”

“It was barbaric.” Private felt his guard slip down as he opened up to the Captain, “No man should ever have seen that much blood. The cannons were deafening and I was… terrified. A few of the men alongside me gave in to cowardice, damn their souls, but I fear if I had survived any longer then I would have too.” 

“You fought, and that was enough.” The Captain put a reassuring hand on Private’s shoulder, “The battle was won, and they couldn’t have possibly done it without men like you.” 

“Sir, could you promise me something?” Private looked up at him, earning a silence from the Captain that clearly meant ‘yes’, “Promise me you will never touch my rifle. I do not want the same thing to happen to you that happened to dear Stef.” 

Although still unsure what touching the rifle meant, the Captain solemnly promised. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait guys, I have loads of little bits of the chapters written and it's hard to try and fit them together. Hope you enjoyed :)


	14. The Master Plan

Pat sat by himself on the bench out the front of the house. His thumbs moved slowly over each other and he looked solemnly out onto the expansive garden. It was early morning and the sun was just beginning to come up over the trees. 

“Alright Pat?” the sound of Stef’s voice came from beside him, “You’re up early.” 

“Oh, yeah, uh,” Pat noticed her, “Early bird gets the worm, eh?” 

“What worm?” She laughed out and plonked herself next to him, “A dead one?” 

Pat chuckled a little, still looking straight ahead, “Yes, I suppose.” 

A calm air hung between them as they watched the golden glow make its way over the horizon. Pat sighed audibly and Stef pulled her feet up into a cross-legged position to face him side on. 

“Are you really alright, Pat?” she asked softly. 

He turned to face her, well, as far as he could turn with a literal arrow through his neck. She had her knees pulled up to her chin and her eyes, through covered in dark punk makeup, were soft and kind. 

He sniffed and made his moustache wiggle, “Yeah, as much as you can be when you’re dead.” 

“I guess so.” She agreed, watching the corners of his mouth lift into a small smile. 

She rested her head against her knees and looked back out onto the sunrise. It was at times like this that Pat wished he could still feel the heat of the sun on his skin. He closed his eyes and pretended. 

“It’ll be halloween soon.” Stef muttered, but loud enough for Pat to understand, “You wanna know something?” 

“Hm?” 

“It’s the day I died.” 

“Oh,” Pat didn’t quite know what to say for a second, “At least you’ll never forget it.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Here we tend to call it a Death Day.” Pat explained, “Because it's the opposite of a… birthday.” 

He paused halfway through his sentence as he glanced at Stef to find her staring at him. 

“Don’t suppose there’ll be cake?” She jokingly suggested and smiled at him. 

He gave a small chuckle, “My family come on mine.” 

“Sorry?” 

“On my Death Day, my family comes to… pay their respects.” Pat gave a vague gesture to the tree stump in the distance. 

“That’s nice.” Stef reached over and put her hand gently on top of his. 

He flinched at the unexpected contact, but then turned his hand over so they could hold hands properly. 

“I might look like some scary punk teenager, but I know a lonely person when I see one.” She rubbed her thumb gently over his fingers, “Don’t tell anyone I was being sweet to you, it’ll ruin my reputation.” 

“My lips are sealed.” Pat smiled affectionately at her; he could see how Private liked her so much. 

***

Between their jobs and the renovations, Alison and Mike had barely had any time at all to look through the array of old belongings that had come from storage, so most of it just sat in the halls and on unused furniture. To be perfectly honest, they had no need for most of it and Mike had mentioned on many occasions how that could sell some of it to help with materials. 

Which, incidentally, was where Julian’s ‘cunning’ plan came in… 

He had delegated Mary and Kitty as ‘instigators’. As little and often as possible, they would slip something into a conversation with Alison about something horrible Stef had said about her. Of course, the punk hadn’t actually said anything bad about Alison, so Julian had devised a list of plausible things that could have come out of her mouth. He called this first stage of the plan ‘the drip-feeding’ - planting little negative seeds in Alison’s head. 

The next stage he had dubbed ‘friendly reminder’ wasn’t so much friendly as incessant. Fanny had been given the role of constantly complaining about the messy piles of stuff in the halls from the storage. Given that complaining is all Fanny seems to be good at, it wasn’t hard for her to fill the requirements. This constant reminder would subconsciously make getting rid of the storage stuff climb higher up Alison’s ‘to-do’ list. 

Originally Thomas hadn’t been a part of Julian’s scheming, but when he had inadvertently joined ‘their side’, Julian had a lightbulb moment. The table and the mantle above the fireplace on the front room were both made of the same wood, and Thomas had mentioned that they had joined the furniture of the house around the same time he had been alive. The table and the mantle also so happened to be where Stef and Private’s objects were. If Thomas managed to convince Alison that the wood needed some sort of treatment she would hopefully remove the rifle and the record player and place them in the pile with the other storage stuff. When Thomas asked if his role in the plan had a special name, Julian simply replied ‘cleaning up’. 

If Thomas was successful, then Julian would take his place centre stage. Every ghost knew that Mike had a habit of leaving his laptop open around the house when he and Alison were doing jobs. All Julian had to do was wait until Alison and Mike went to work for the day and find the laptop, press a few keys and find ‘Jim and Ben’s reliable removals’. 

“What is that?” Thomas asked quizzically when Julian was explaining it to them. 

“A couple of chums from back in the day.” Julian elaborated, “They used to help me with little jobs here and there for a small cheeky reasonable sum. Cash in hand, say-no-more kinds of deals, you know.” 

“Say no more what?” Kitty innocently inquired. 

Julian completely ignored her as he carried on with his plan, “Hopefully they will still be in business, and knowing the kind of chaps that they are they probably will be. I will send them an email encoded with hints and clues letting them know about the ‘high-brow quality antiques’ that need moving from the property. I will then shut off the emails, leaving only their company name typed into Goggle for Michael to find when they get back. He will show it to Alison who will undoubtedly phone them up. The wonderful idiots will take the full blame when they wake up the next morning to find the storage collection, and our unwelcome houseguests, have vanished!” 

Kitty and Mary gave a pathetic little round of applause as Julian did a bow, which almost flashed Fanny. 

“Vanished?” Thomas picked up on his last comment. 

“Yes!” Julian pulled out his politician’s hand gesture, “You see, Jim and Ben were always very… discreet.” 

“Are you implying we arrange for some strange men to come and rob the house?” Fanny put it bluntly, “Because I for one…”

“You see Fanny, that’s where you’re wrong, they wouldn’t be robbing.” Julian interrupted, “Robbing involves some level of threat against the victim.” 

“So you’re not denying that you would be arranging a crime?” Thomas added. 

“A crime? We’ll hang!” Kitty started to panic. 

“We’re already dead, Kitty, keep up.” Julian blurted, trying to assert his dominance in the group, “And we want the goth and her tin soldier boyfriend out, don’t we?” 

“I suppose.” Fanny thought over the proposal again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go lads, the story is starting to ramp up and I don't think there'd be many chapters left. I am planning on maybe turning this into the first part of a two-parter fic considering where the story is going. Please let me know what you think and, as always, thanks so much for reading :)


	15. Private

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: this chapter has some pretty graphic descriptions of violence and war, so if you don't want to read for whatever reason you can skip to the end for a brief summary

The grandfather clock struck 3 am. 

The Captain looked around for any of the other ghosts before confirming that he was alone. Private’s rifle sat in its usual place above the mantle, illuminated by the moonlight from the clear sky outside. He ran his swagger stick through his fingers as he re-evaluated what he was about to do. Stef had warned him against it, multiple times, and he had even made a promise, but curiosity was starting to get the better of him. After having that talk with Private earlier, where he opened up about his death, the Captain couldn’t bear the mystery any longer. 

He strode over to the mantle, paused apprehensively, and reached for the barrel of the gun. His fingers lightly phased through and he felt the sensation of falling. If he had a stomach he would have most definitely lost it. The room around him fell into pitch black and his breathing quickened in panic. He tried to take his hand off the rifle, but the darkness around him somehow brought him into a trance; his eyes fell heavy and his knees buckled underneath him. All of a sudden, his eyes snapped back open. He had no idea how long he had been passed out for, but it almost felt like a full night's sleep. He was not in Button House anymore. 

The Captain quickly stood up and surveyed his surroundings; an army battalion in pristine red tunics adorned with white sashes holding their individual rifles. They all seemed to be in formation on a stretch of land readying for combat, by the looks of their faces. 

“I say, where am I?” The Captain asked none of them in particular. 

He had gotten quite used to not being heard over the years, but for some reason, he felt he would get an answer out of these men. Scanning the faces of the men around him, he recognised the young Private just behind him in his full uniform looking frightfully scared. 

“Private! Private what is going on here? What the Dickens is happening?” 

No response. The shouts of what sounded like an army general ordered the men to ready their weapons. Private’s shaking hands held the barrel of his rifle close to his body as if it were a shield. Bellowing war cries from men on horseback travelled like a wave through what sounded like an entire army. The Captain looked back to Private for an explanation and saw him yelling alongside his fellow soldiers. It was then that he noticed; Private was looking straight through him. Was this happening in his head?

Then they started advancing, first with a march and then into a jog. Captain felt himself being pulled by an imaginary force along with the troops; thousands of them. He still attempted to get Private’s attention, but it was futile as they moved towards what must only be the enemy, the Captain had seen his fair share of combat to know that much. Over the hill they had just climbed, Captain spotted another army of men, this time wearing blue uniforms. 

It all suddenly clicked - the French. This was the Battle of Waterloo. His heart started to thump out of his chest. 

The Captain tried to keep up with Private as he broke out into a run, brandishing his rifle alongside his fellow soldiers. He could see the fear in Private’s eyes, but the young man was determined and pressed on. The shouting got louder and louder as they neared the enemy and it came to a crescendo when the two masses of soldiers met. The Captain felt what would have been his heart beating out of his chest as he watched Private ready his rifle, aim it at a French soldier and fire. The sound of gunfire from all of the rifles around him soon filled his ears and brought him back to his time in the war. He tried to maintain composure, staying alongside Private as he shot at another Frenchman.

It wasn’t too long before bodies littered the ground around them and blood-soaked into the ground, turning it a horrible shade of crimson. Private started to lose his sense of direction and the Captain felt helpless as he followed the soldier through the battle. He was looking around at his fellow soldiers in pure horror as the formation he had once stood in was strewn in a mess of bodies and limbs and blood and gruesome conflict as far as he could see. 

“Private!” The Captain tried again, even though he knew the effort was worthless. He wanted Private to know he wasn’t alone in this hellhole; he wanted him to know he was never going to leave his side. 

A piercing scream rang through the Captain’s ears as a cannonball came hurtling from behind them and threw up dirt mere meters away. Private swung his rifle around carelessly as his aims at the French became sloppier. This sloppiness led to a particularly burly French soldier launching an attack from behind him. 

“Watch out!” The Captain yelled out of instinct, but Private seemed to get the hint and closely dodged the bayonet on the end of the Frenchman’s rifle. 

A surprisingly evenly matched combat ensued. Both soldiers took shots at each other, but both missed. Private managed to get close enough to tear a gash in the man’s leg, making him yell out in pain before using the barrel of his gun to hit Private over the head. Private hit the ground hard, but not before catching the man’s foot with his bayonet and throwing him off his feet too. The two competitors now lay on the ground, their respective rifles just out of reach. Private took the opportunity and kicked his heel into the man’s jaw. Bad idea; the man cried out in pain, but quickly grabbed Private’s leg and twisted it the wrong way causing him to do the same. 

As they fought, the Captain constantly shielded himself from cannonballs and artillery all around him, not that it would have made any difference. He looked back round to see the two men now struggling to hold their own - Private was throwing a fair few punches, but the bigger man had managed to pin him down and get his hands around his throat. 

“Get off him you BRUTE!” The Captain yelled futilely once more, rushing over, but all too aware there was nothing he could do. 

The Frenchman’s hands tightened around Private’s throat and the younger man failed his limbs to try and escape, but to no avail. As Private struggled to breathe, the Captain felt his own airways closing up and he gasped desperately for air, falling to his knees. Private’s pleas for help as the stronger man cut off his airflow became less and less until only breathy whimpers remained. The Captain’s eyes began to water as he watched the hope drain from Private’s. 

The Captain would have done anything in the world at that moment to trade his life for this young man struggling to stay alive with all of his might. The last determined jerks of Private’s limbs became limp and his eyes glossed over. 

“NOOO!” The Captain screamed, tears now flowing from both eyes as he reached out. 

The darkness then consumed his vision once more. 

“NO!” He bellowed in despair, “I need to help him! I should have saved him, I SHOULD HAVE SAVED HIM!” 

The tightness around the Captain's throat loosened instantaneously and the pitch-black faded back into Button House. He sat bolt upright in a cold sweat, if ghosts could do that, and was breathing heavier than he had done in a very long time. He noticed he was on the floor and reached for his swagger stick with a shaky hand. Looking up, he saw the rifle; the Captain swallowed hard and shuffled back on the floor away from it. Only then did he notice Alison crouched near him. 

“Captain, what’s wrong?” She asked, clearly very concerned, “You were crying.” 

The Captain felt his face and rubbed away two wet lines from down his cheeks. Thank the lord none of the other ghosts were there to see his weakness, no man of his stature should be seen showing emotions. He stared back up at the rifle, horrified and deeply regretful he had given in to his own curiosity. 

The grandfather clock struck 4am. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brief summary for those triggered by graphic stuff: The Captain is alone at night, he gives in to his own curiosity and touches Private's rifle. He is transported onto a battlefield amongst the British army and next to Private, but no-one sees him. The army begin their attack and it soon becomes apparent that this is the Battle of Waterloo. The Captain follows Private into the battle. After fighting and firing his rifle at the enemy, Private gets into a fight with a burly french soldier who pins him down and suffocates him. The Captain also feels his air being cut off even though he is only watching. Suddenly, the Captain is transported back into Button House like waking up from a dream. Alison is there and asks if he is ok; He then feels his face to find out he had been crying.


	16. Guilt

“Doo doodoo, won’t you take me to, doo doodoo, funky town?” Mike sang to himself as he struggled to scrape some moulding wallpaper. 

Stef’s record player had been churning out the greatest hits of Lipps Inc for the past hour, most of which Pat and Stef had been singing along to from one of the sofas, not that Mike knew. Alison came in brandishing two mugs of tea, closely followed by a complaining Lady Fanny. 

“I do not wish to live amongst this filth any longer!” She waved her arms about dramatically. 

“You said that yesterday, and the day before!” Alison retaliated, “There's not much we can do about it at the moment. We’re already loaded with doing up the house already, we don’t have the time to go through it or the money to have anything taken away.” 

Fanny opened her mouth to make another remark, but couldn’t help but realise Alison had made a good point, “You have not heard the last of this.” 

And with that, Fanny threw a glare at Stef and stormed off. 

“Oh good.” Alison sighed and handed Mike one of the mugs. 

After what might have been ten minutes or half an hour, Stef started to blow raspberries in tune to whatever was now emitting from the record player. After upturning herself on the sofa so her boots now sat next to Pat’s head, she caught a glimpse of Private and the Captain patrolling the gravel outside. Pat followed her gaze out of the window and smiled at the two men chatting away. 

***

Upstairs, Thomas was also watching them out of his sighing window. Somewhere deep down, he wasn’t sure if he felt a little jealous of their friendship. He hadn’t been that close with any of the other ghosts over the years, and even when he had been alive his friendship circle was limited. 

He felt a presence behind him and saw the pigeon had perched itself on the bookshelf. Reaching out delicately, he let his fingers lightly brush the feathers on the back of its neck. Soft. The bird cooed happily and flew over to the window to be closer to him. He felt the corner of his mouth lift and continued to softly stroke it. 

“You are not as much of a pest as the others would have you believe.” Thomas half whispered. 

The pigeon cooed in response, hopping a little closer. The familiar grunting of Robin echoed down the hallway and he stopped in the frame of the door. 

“Pigeon!” He cried excitedly, but the bird looked rather terrified and hopped onto Thomas’ lap. 

Thomas gave the pigeon a reassuring pat on the head, “You leave this poor bird alone Robin! Look, it’s half frightened to death!” 

“But it likes to play!” Robin became a little deflated, walking over to them. 

“I’m quite sure it doesn’t.” The pigeon nestled into Thomas as he protected it from the caveman. 

“But… but-”

“No, Robin. I forbid you to torture this poor creature any longer.” Thomas stood his ground. 

With another huff, Robin turned on his heel and left through a bookcase. 

“Don’t worry, you are safe with me.” Thomas stroked it again. 

He returned his gaze out of the window to see the two soldiers doing their drill. His thoughts drifted to how protective Private seemed to be over Stef; anytime Fanny had shouted at her, or Julian had made some remark, or Mary had called her an ‘agent of Satan’ he had defended her like some sort of bodyguard; perhaps he now felt the same type of responsibility. The bird cooed happily and he smiled again. 

***

A crescent moon illuminated the grounds. A single rabbit pricked its ears up and it’s nose twitched rapidly. The glowing eyes of a fox were hidden amongst the bushes, watching, waiting. Heart thumping and ears listening closely, the rabbit’s eyes scanned the dark around it. A large paw gingerly stepped out from the bushes; the rabbit stopped. Another nose twitched in anticipation now, it was big and wet. It belonged to a long snout, which belonged to a jaw of sharp teeth and a slobbering tongue. 

A predator and its prey, locked in a stalemate, neither know which would move first. Another large paw crept from the shadows to join the first, and between one heartbeat and the next the fox leapt from the bushes with grace, precision and only one thing on it’s mind. The chase was on. The rabbit scarpered into the long grass, desperate to lose the fox. It bounded from one side to the other, zig-zagging it’s way into the trees and under a fence. The fox skidded to a halt as it’s meal disappeared from view and it listened out for any movement. A crunch, and then a squeal. Predator followed the sound, it’s skinny frame making short work of the long grass and the narrow gaps between trees. What it found was dinner, served on a silver platter, or rather caught in barbed wire. The beast licked it’s lips. 

Inside the house, the Captain did his rounds alone for the first time in a little while. Private had fallen asleep in an armchair downstairs and he didn’t want to disturb him. Anyway, he had a little business to take care of. It was very rare to catch Stef by herself wandering the house, so when the Captain turned a corner and spotted her at the end of a corridor, he did a little jog to catch up to her. 

“I say, Stephanie.” The Captain came up alongside her. 

“Captain,” Stef gave him a crude little salute as they walked on. 

“I’m afraid I have something to ask you.” He continued. 

“Afraid?” 

“Well, no offence,” He tiptoed, very mindful of her short temper, “But I wouldn’t think you were the sort of person people come to for advice.” 

“Advice?” 

“Yes, uh,” The Captain’s brain went completely blank for a second as he tried to formulate his next sentence, “When you first arrived here, you mentioned you had touched Private’s rifle.” 

“...Yes,” Stef answered slowly, trying to figure out where he was going with this, “If you’re going to ask me what happens when you touch it, I won’t-”

“I know.” The Captain cut her off. 

Stef stopped in her tracks and stared at him in stunned silence for a moment, “What?” 

“I know what happens.” The Captain reiterated, “And I know you warned everyone against it, but I don’t know what came over me.” 

They stood there for a moment. Stef stared up at him, not sure how to react. It had been a while since she went through the ordeal herself, but she couldn’t imagine what it would have been like for a former soldier to see those horrors again. Finally, she broke the silence. 

“I don’t suppose you’re a hug type of person.” 

“Not really, no.” 

Stef opened her mouth to speak again, but thought very carefully, “You need to tell Private.” 

“That’s quite the reason I came to you,” The Captain replied, “You see, I made a promise to him that I would never touch it. I fear I may lose his trust. You are the only other person that has gone through… that.” 

The Captain started to mumble on about betrayal and looked down to the floor. Stef abruptly stopped him by putting a hand on his arm. 

“You need to tell him.” Her calm tone brought his eyes back to hers, “The longer you don’t tell him, the longer it festers; you’d be making it so much worse.” 

“I see.” He processed that, “You know, you’re not as bad as you seem Stephanie.” 

“Charming.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beginning of the end chaps - I have finally decided that this will be the first in a two-part story. There will only be a few more chapters in this fic as I have already written its quite conclusive ending. The reason I will continue this in a second part is that as I have written this fic, it has become clear that the story as a whole will end up consisting of two major plots and it makes more sense to have them separate. I'm so glad everyone has enjoyed reading just as much as I have enjoyed writing this :)


	17. Rabbit in the Snare

Upon some sort of unexpected request from Julian, Lady Fanny, Mary, Kitty and Thomas had gathered by the lake, out of sight of the house. Fanny was inspecting the deteriorating tulip bed and pulling her usual faces. Looking wistfully out over the lake, Thomas was joined by his new avian companion perched happily on his shoulder like a bona fide parrot. He got a few strange glances from the others, but no one could ask him about it until Julian cockily strode up the grass to them. 

“Why are we meeting here?” Kitty asked him timidly. 

“Well, we don’t want the other side knowing our plan do we?” Julian gestured in the direction of the house, “I set Pat off talking about Duran Duran with Stef, Private and Alison which should keep them busy for a while. The Captain is probably sulking somewhere, I don’t know.” 

“Other side?” Thomas mumbled quietly to himself. 

“Now, what have we got so far?” Julian clasped his hands together and rubbed the cunningly, “Mary and Kitty?” 

“Well,” Mary began, in the sort of tone that would precede a long, boring speech, “I have been remindings Alison ‘bout the evil and devilish sins that flow through Stef. I have also been damnings the Private for condoning such wicked behaviour. She seems to not pay attention but I knows her soul listens.” 

Mary finished with a little waggle of her finger and turned to Kitty. Kitty spluttered for a moment trying to get her words out as the others looked at her expectantly. 

“I haven’t been lying, if that’s what you want to hear.” She finally said timidly, “I don’t think I could, but Stef has been teasing me and I did tell Alison a few times. I did say some stuff about Private too, about him not doing anything to stop her. He told me that was just her way of speaking, but I think she is just being horrid.” 

“Right, uh okay then.” Julian processed that, “Lady Fanny, what about you?” 

“Oh, I assure you there has been no shortage of complaints about the detritus sitting around my house.” Fanny lifted her nose up snootily, “I have no doubt Alison wants rid of the unnecessary waste as soon as possible.” 

“Brilliant.” Julian seemed very pleased with himself, even though he hadn’t actually done anything to help yet, “So then, Thomas, any news on your part? Well, apart from your new pet it seems.” 

“The bird is not my pet, Julian.” Thomas retaliated. 

“Oh, of course, it’s your friend.” The politician teased. 

“Did you want my assistance or not?” 

“Yes, sure, go ahead Thomas.” Julian sniggered to himself. 

“I have spoken with Alison about the mantle…”

**

A few days ago, early evening, the front room. Alison is polishing expensive looking picture frames and Mike is unsuccessfully vacuuming an expensive looking rug. Thomas begins to make his usual dramatic entrance, calling out for Alison. As he crosses the threshold he sees Alison lifting Private’s rifle off the mantle to polish it. Thomas stops in his tracks, sees this and spins on his heel. His work is done without even having to lift a finger. 

**

“She really didn’t want to, but I used my persuasive charm to coerce her.” Thomas boasted… and lied. 

“Right, everything seems to be coming together then.” Julian clapped and rubbed his hands together again. 

“What about you then?” Fanny asked, only just remembering that Julian hadn’t fulfilled his own role yet. 

“Soon.” Julian grinned, “Our problem will be no more faster than you can say… no more.” 

“No more.” Kitty whispered and immediately clasped her fingers over her mouth. 

***

_ Sweet dreams are made of this. Who am I to disagree? I travel the world and the seven seas. Everybody's looking for something.  _

Stef stood in the bay of a window, lit by the sunny day outside. The record player was radiating early 80’s synths of Eurythmics and Pat and Robin had been encouraged by Stef to join her in dancing along. Private had managed to escape her this time and was instead watching them dance, sat beside the Captain at the other side of the room. 

Stef had tried to teach Robin how to mosh earlier, which hadn’t gone as anticipated with him blowing several fuses, including the one in the record player. After Mike had thankfully come to their rescue, Alison had recommended something a little less aggressive and hence, Eurythmics was now pumping out of the speaker. 

Every now and then, The Captain would catch Stef’s eye and share a knowing look, with the Captain’s meaning ‘Yes, I know I need to tell Private, but I should wait for the right time’ and Stef’s replying look meaning ‘For god’s sake tell him, you’re just digging yourself a hole the longer you wait.’ 

There had been many points between their conversation and this point when the Captain had contemplated telling Private, but at the last moments he had turned their conversation to something else, thanking the lord that Private actually enjoyed his ramblings on about the war. There were also many points at which he would look at the younger soldier and not be able too see him in the same way he did before he had touched his rifle. He had been horrifically taken in the prime of his life and sometimes there was nothing the Captain could do to see past that. Perhaps that was why he couldn’t bring himself to say anything about it; he had witnessed such a devastating moment and betrayed a soldier’s promise. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost there then. I've got the last chapter pretty much all written up, so that will be coming either tomorrow or the day after. Apologies for the month-long break, I've been struggling a bit during quarantine and writer's block has played a little part in that. Hope you enjoy this penultimate chapter and, as always, thanks for reading :)


	18. Finally

This was the last straw, Stef had had it. Upon arriving at Button House, she had never expected to reprimand a WW2 army captain on his cowardice, but here she was, a month or so later, doing exactly that. 

“You served in the war for crying out loud, this must be like nothing compared to that.” 

“It is a sensitive issue, Stephanie, you have to tread lightly.” 

“How lightly? Imagine yourself in his shoes, wouldn’t you be angry if someone kept this from you?” Stef folded her leather-clad arms. 

“I-” 

“Look Captain, Private is my best friend, and I’ll be damned if I keep secrets from him because I know he would do the same for me.” She interrupted, which surprised him a little. 

“I understand.” The Captain sighed, not wanting to argue. 

“You’ve got until tomorrow,” she threatened, something he hadn’t experienced in a while, “And if you haven’t told him by then, it’s going to come from me, which will be much worse.” 

Damn, he had to do it tonight. 

**

After a while of looking around the house, the Captain finally found Private staring out of one of the downstairs windows looking out over the moonlit garden. He stopped in the doorway, watching the moonlight illuminate the young chap’s handsome face.  _ Stop that! It is sinful!  _ The Captain shook away his thoughts, puffed out his chest and strode carefully towards the soldier. 

“Private.” The Captain greeted him, standing alongside him to stare out of the window too. 

Private turned on his heel and saluted, which made the Captain feel all the more guilty for betraying his trust; he didn’t deserve this salute. 

“At ease.” The Captain said out of habit and then turned to face out of the window, “Are you... are you well?” 

“It is peculiar,” Private began, “I’ve been to many places over the time of my death, but every time I come to a new place it’s like wiping the chalkboard clean again, starting over. I’ve never been to a place with so many fellow ghosts too.” 

The Captain stole a side glance, “You get used to it, you adjust, you press on.” 

They stood again in strangely comfortable silence, neither one wanting to break it. Private let his mind wander and half-laughed at a thought. 

“What?” The Captain queried.

“It is just,” Private smirked at his feet, “I overheard Stef talking to Pat the other evening and she said it was quite a coincidence that we both use our military titles instead of our real names.” 

“Yes, quite.” The Captain let that sink in, “It’s a matter of respect, I suppose. If others only ever call you by your title, then they are respecting your position.”

A short pause filled the air between them before Private spoke again, “Does anybody know your actual name?” 

“I would think they’ve all either passed on, or are too old to remember.” The Captain replied, slightly reminiscing about the 40s again, “And you, Private? What about Stephanie?” 

“I almost told her once.” Was his reply, “We are so close now I have told her almost everything, but I think she would still call me Private even if I did. She is a strange girl.” 

Talking about Stef reminded the Captain about what she had said to him; ‘tomorrow’ rang through his ears. Yes, it would be wise to tell Private and be truthful, but at the same time he had betrayed his trust and could potentially damage what was starting to become a strong alliance… no, friendship. 

“Private?” he said after a short while. 

“Yes?” Private turned his head away from the window to face the Captain; The Captain followed suit. 

“There’s something I have to tell you.” He continued, nervously playing with his swagger stick behind his back, “And I’m afraid you won’t like it. Now you can tell this old Captain to bugger off if you’d like but-”

“Captain,” Private’s soft voice interrupted him, “What is it?” 

“I- I-,” The Captain struggled to find the right words, looking into the innocent eyes of his fellow soldier, knowing they were anything but, “Your rifle... I-”

The Captain’s voice caught in his throat and he couldn’t manage to get the rest of the sentence out before remembering the horrific ordeal. He felt tears sting his eyes and the lump grow in his throat as Private slowly realised what had happened and his face dropped. The Captain knew it, he had broken the soldier’s trust and would be forever hated by him. Private couldn’t help but stare into the Captain’s sorrowful eyes with a mix of pain, sorrow, but mostly sympathy. He had made the Captain promise so he wouldn’t have to live the nightmare, but there he stood, his older face knowing the horror of what caused Private to meet his end. 

“I’m so sorry Private, I shouldn’t have-” 

Private hugged him, hard. He hugged him in the hope that he would soak up all that pain like a sponge, so the Captain would never have to remember such trauma. He hugged him to let him know it was ok, that he didn’t blame him for giving into the mystery. He hugged him because he didn’t want him to feel alone, like he had as he suffocated on the battlefield, afraid and alone. 

The Captain was taken aback as his torso was grabbed and held tight. He wasn’t quite sure what to do with his arms, but as he felt whatever Private must have been trying to communicate through the hug, he put his arms around him and hugged him back. All of a sudden, the Captain realised how touch-deprived he had been for all these years and how long he had waited to feel someone care about him. He suddenly understood why Private and Stef were practically joined at the hip. He rubbed a hand over the Private’s back to try and calm him, but he only held him tighter to show how much he cared. 

After a moment or two, the two men disconnected and stood facing each other, unsure of what to say. Private opened his mouth, but sort of bobbed like a goldfish trying to find words. Eventually, he gave up and shamefully looked down at his feet, then took a seat on the window sill. The Captain felt the guilt rise in him again as he watched this beautiful young man be ashamed of what he just did. He couldn’t manage to find the right words and just stood there in awe of the compassion he had been shown. He felt himself sitting down next to Private on the window sill, but couldn’t bring himself to look across at him as thoughts raced through his mind and his metaphorical heart beat out of its chest. 

“That was terribly inappropriate, sir.” Private managed to muster up the words to apologise, “I offer my most sincere apologies and-”

Private had turned his head to face him, but trailed off when he saw the Captain was staring straight back at him. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t help getting lost in the depths of the Captain’s eyes. They both felt the air between them becoming thinner and they listened to each other’s breaths. Without warning, the Captain felt something take over him; he took Private’s face gently in his hands and pulled him into a kiss.

And Private kissed back, much to the Captain's surprise. Somehow the kiss was saying more than words or a hug ever could. It was them telling the other how they truly felt. The Captain and his Private. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are at the end! Well, not really, I'm writing up chapters of the second part as you probably read this, but this is the end of the first half. To be honest I wasn't sure if I'd get to this point before the second series aired and I'm so excited to write what comes next. Stef and Pat bonded over the 80s, Thomas has made a friend in the ghost pigeon, Private and the Captain finally kissed (I told you there would be gay) and Julian's plan is coming to fruition. There will likely be a chunk of time before I post the second part as I want to get most of it written up so chapters can be posted weekly. Keep an eye out. Thanks for reading :))


End file.
